Secrets & Lies
by Digitallace
Summary: Auror Potter is given the task of taking down Draco Malfoy using whatever means necessary. Even if it means sleeping with the enemy - Beware: hot boy love
1. Unspoken

Author's Note: I'm so happy to be contributing to Fandom again! I've been working on this fic for some time now, and while it's not finished, it's at a point that I feel comfortable beginning to post it. I don't have a Beta at the moment, so please pardon any errors you find within and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: Unspoken

**The** familiar feel of bristles brushing against his teeth made Harry want to yawn, but he resisted the urge until after he spit the residue of toothpaste and water from his mouth. A long yawn escaped him then, and there was little he was able to do about it. Blinking at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed it had gone a little soft around the edges, so he leveled his wand at his eyes and cast the vision correction spell Hermione had taught him a few years back. He had to admit that it was far more convenient, not to mention practical, to forgo his glasses, but part of him missed being able to hide behind the thick black frames. Although truthfully, his trademark glasses seemed to be more of a hindrance than a help with avoiding recognition these days and only Polyjuice would allow him to go anywhere completely unnoticed as the Boy-who-Conquered.

His fringe helped somewhat, affording him some anonymity as he strolled the streets of Diagon Alley or the corridors of the Ministry. His black hair hung in shaggy tendrils around his face, curling slightly at the tips and looked as unruly as ever.

Toweling off, Harry padded into his bedroom, tossing the sodden terrycloth onto his bed as he made his way to the looming wardrobe in the corner. He pulled out a pair of black trousers, a simple cotton jumper and a set of Ministry issue Auror robes and hung them on the canopy surrounding his bed. After slipping into a pair of nondescript boxers, Harry journeyed downstairs for breakfast. He'd learned years ago that if he ate after dressing in his exhausted state, he'd end up wearing his breakfast, and Auror Fledgecraft frowned upon wizards who couldn't keep their robes pristine. Ron hadn't figured out how to manage it yet, probably because he insisted on snacking throughout the day. His robes were constantly stained with sugary powder or sticky jams and Fledgecraft was always glowering at him for it…among other things.

The scent of cheddar eggs, sausage and whole wheat toast met his nostrils as he rounded the banister and into the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose in a confused frown, sighing when he saw Ginny hovering over the stove, her wand outstretched and flicking over several pans. "Harry, you're up! I've made your favorite," she cooed upon seeing him, tapping her cheek for a good morning kiss.

Harry obliged, snagging a cube of cheese from the bowl she was using the sprinkle on the eggs. "Not that I'm complaining, but what are you doing here, Gin?"

"Making you breakfast, obviously," she chimed, giving her wand a flick and sent the eggs onto a plate and levitating it over to the seat Harry had taken at the table.

"I see that," Harry noted with only a mild roll of his eyes. "I guess I meant, why?"

"Why not?" Ginny turned her back on the food preparation momentarily to level Harry with a critical stare.

Harry ducked his head and gave a small shrug. "Don't know. I just don't see the point is all. I'm just going to be rushing around getting ready for work," he offered, taking a bite of his eggs. She was partly right. He loved these eggs, although the wheat toast that hovered over next he could do without. He preferred sourdough or nothing. She knew this of course, so Harry didn't bother to complain. She'd only light into another speech about eating healthy and then Harry would groan and she'd get offended and then he'd have to apologize for hurting her feelings but she would still storm out in a huff and then Harry would have to go to that florist she liked again and buy her something nice and…uhg. Relationships were more work than catching criminals.

"I wanted to see you," she quipped. "Is that so wrong?"

"No. I suppose not," he agreed.

"Did you not want to see me?" she asked, bottom lip trembling slightly.

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes at the display and rushed to correct her, knowing it would be his bullocks if he didn't. "Of course I did. I just don't want you to feel put out, having to come over here for such a short visit."

"Well," she said, turning back to the stove, but not before Harry caught the triumphant grin on her face. He'd fallen right into her trap. "If we moved in together it would be no bother at all."

Harry sighed and pushed his half-eaten plate away. Rising from the table, he hooked his arm around her waist and pressed another kiss to her cheek. "Sorry love, I can't talk about that right now. I have to run," he said and all but sprinted to the door.

"Harry James Potter, you cannot keep running away from me," she said firmly, in a voice that sounded every bit Molly Weasley and void of any of the mirth she'd once held.

"I'm not," he sighed, turning partially to face her from the doorway. "Look, how about dinner? I'll take you somewhere nice tonight and we can talk," he offered with the crooked grin that always seemed to make her back down. "I promise."

She seemed to think about it, the choice of making a stand and fighting or letting it go for now battling across her features until a sweet smile won out. "Fine," he sighed at last. "Tonight. Dinner….but Harry, it had better be romantic, because you've been too distant lately and it's time to grow up and-"

Her last words were cut off by Harry's hand and a dismal shake of his head. It already throbbed dully behind his eyes and they hadn't even gone to dinner for 'the talk' yet. "Feel free to stay and eat. You know how to let yourself out when you're done," he called over his shoulder as he turned and bounded up the stairs to his room, dressing for the day in record time. As he Flooed into the Ministry lobby, he only felt an inkling of guilt for leaving her so abruptly. After all, she had tried to corner him.

* * *

><p><strong>Maybe<strong> she was right. Maybe it was time for things to change. Merlin knew Harry's life had been stagnant since the war, and they kept having the same fight over and over, and he was the only one refusing to budge. Hermione and Ron were engaged already, a night that Harry remembered as 'the day Ginny went mad'. Ever since their announcement the Burrow had been filled with cheer instead of mourning and Ginny's head had been filled with ideas of how her life should be and how her relationship with Harry should be progressing.

Harry pondered the many reasons why he felt hesitant to let Ginny move into Grimmauld place and tried to rationalize what Hermione kept calling 'commitment issues'. There were obvious issues, like the fact that he still hadn't renovated the musty old manor or that his being a public figure and Auror made him a target for Death Eaters and other random criminals, but the main reason was that it just didn't feel right yet.

He had little doubt that he'd be ready one day. Just not today. Besides, why shouldn't he have commitment issues? Practically everyone he'd ever cared about had died, or deceived him or both.

"Potter? Are you even listening to me?" boomed a deep voice, breaking through his inner turmoil. A sharp elbow to the ribs reminded him that he was sandwiched between Ron and Hermione in a meeting with their boss.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry Sir," Harry rushed to apologize, his cheeks pinking slightly from being caught unawares. "You were telling us about the new mission?"

"Yes, while you were daydreaming about Merlin knows what, Potter, I was telling your team about our latest mark," Fledgecraft replied with gruff irritation. "I would have thought this one would interest you, given your history."

"Malfoy," Ron whispered not-so-covertly in his ear, the name sending a shiver of malice up Harry's spine.

"Indeed. Draco Malfoy is your new mission. We've been trying for years to infiltrate his camp, get some kind of dirt on his illegal business ventures, and we've been thwarted at every turn. As much as I hate to admit it, he's a clever crook," Fledgecraft growled.

"So what are we supposed to do if senior Aurors haven't been able to find anything?" Hermione piped in, flipping through the dossier on Malfoy's import/export business and any snippet of information the Ministry had been able to collect on the sneaky Slytherin's exploits.

"You're his peers, his equals. I'll need one of you to form a connection with him, get close and uncover his secrets," Fledgecraft replied.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. "We might consider ourselves his equals, but Malfoy sure as hell doesn't. He doesn't like us, Sir," he understated. "Never has. Why would he trust any of us?"

"He doesn't have to trust you much. Just enough to let you inside the Manor," Fledgecraft explained.

"Oh! It's like on some Muggle telly show! Hermione can seduce him, and then tie him up and search the Manor!" Ron blurted, laughing at his own joke. Harry chortled along while Hermione grimaced and their boss remained silent.

"That's the general idea, Weasley," Fledgecraft agreed smugly as the boys' cheerful demeanor fell away. "Only it won't be Granger anchoring the mission," he mused, clearly pleased with their reactions. "Our intelligence shows that Draco Malfoy isn't interested in women."

Ron just blinked, with Harry gaping slightly beside him. Hermione shoved the folder in front of them both with an irritated huff, muttering "Really. Don't you ever read the files?" A slightly blurry picture of Malfoy snogging some random bloke in a nondescript alleyway stared back at them.

"Oh," Harry said dumbly, unable to tear his eyes away from the image as much as he wanted to.

"Not it!" Ron shouted, quickly regaining his wits as he threw his hands up in haste, thoroughly retracting his name from the pool for this particular task. Harry paled and shook his head roughly, eyes still glued on the image in the dossier.

"No. No way. First of all, I am not even so much as touching Draco Malfoy. Besides, there is no way he would buy it. You said yourself that he's clever, Sir. He would never believe I was interested in him. Never," he noted resolutely, still in shock as to what his boss was asking them to do.

"Then you had better make him believe it, Potter," Fledgecraft replied with a pointed look.

"Sir, this is truly unreasonable," Hermione chimed in with that stern spark in her eye that she got when she was trying to impersonate McGonagall. "Harry is in a serious relationship. You can't expect him to sully that for this case. I'm sure there are plenty of single men in the program who would be better suited to this task. You might even find someone who would be more…eager to…chat up Malfoy," she suggested, looking dumbfounded as to who in their right mind would volunteer to an evening alone with that prat.

Harry nodded in unison with Ron beside him. "Exactly, Sir."

Fledgecraft leaned back in his chair, his beady gaze wandering between all three companions. "I don't need someone who is interested in the task," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. Fledgecraft was not a man who liked repeating himself, and it was growing obvious that he wasn't asking for any favors here. "The fact that you're not interested only makes you more valuable to the case. Emotions would only muck things up," he explained, as if paraphrasing from their training textbooks. "As for your personal relationships...did you get married to Miss Weasley without it making it into the papers?"

Frowning, Harry shook his head, wincing at the subtle dig. Fledgecraft had always said that Harry's notoriety made him more of a liability in this profession than his mediocre wand skills helped the department. "No. Of course not."

"Engaged then?" Fledgecraft asked, seemingly trying to look genuinely interested.

"No, Sir," Harry sighed, ducking his head, his hand moving awkwardly through his unruly mane. He could see where this was going and he didn't care for it. Not one bit.

"Do you even so much as live together?" his boss pressed and he could feel Hermione and Ron grow taut on either side of him, like he was the limp bowstring in a perfectly honed violin.

Harry hesitated, so close to blurting out that yes, Ginny was moving in with him, but that would mean many things. Sure it might get him out of this mission…might…but it would also mean speeding up his relationship with Ginny to a level he wasn't yet entirely comfortable with. "No, Sir," he answered at last with a shaky breath.

"Well then it's settled," his boss announced with a triumphant grin. "Our sources have put together a list of his common haunts." He slid a new sheaf of paper across the table to Harry. "Granger, Weasley, you'll both back him up on this, make sure he doesn't get into trouble. Potter," he added, rising to his feet, "good luck."

Fledgecraft turned and left the room but not before Harry could take note of how pleased his boss seemed with himself. It was no secret that Fledgecraft didn't trust him, in fact he'd made that plain from Harry's first day of training, but Harry was determined to prove himself. Even if that meant locking lips –or worse- with Draco Malfoy.

Fucking hell he hoped it didn't come to that.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the tiny taste of what's to come.


	2. Complications and Cutting Charms

Author's Note: Did you miss me? Many thanks to all my loyal readers who stuck with me through my extended hiatus and reviewed the first chapter. I heart you guys so much! And even more love for my sexy friend Arineat for Beta'ing this chapter for me.

**Chapter 2 Complications and Cutting Charms**

It was late when Harry got home that night. He'd tried to drown the reality of his new assignment in a pint at the pub with Ron, but it hadn't worked as well as he'd liked. As soon as he opened the door to Grimmauld Place, he knew something was wrong. His Auror instincts went on edge, sobering him immediately and even though he heard or saw nothing, he knew someone was there.

Quietly, Harry padded through the foyer, his hand on his wand as he crept into the dining room. A small sigh of relief escaped him when he saw it was only Ginny sitting at the far end of the table, her head bowed. She was wearing a slinky crimson dress that matched her brilliant red hair and suddenly Harry felt like a total arse.

"Merlin, Gin," he gasped out, rushing to her side. "I completely forgot about dinner."

The only response he was met with was a soft sniffle. Ginny didn't raise her head, didn't acknowledge him in the least. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder only to have it shaken off. "Ginny, come on. I'm sorry. Work today…."

"It's always work, or your friends, or my family," she whispered in a voice so soft he almost didn't hear her. The only thing worse than shouting was this. She sounded broken, like a wounded deer calling out for help. "Any excuse you can think of to drive us further apart."

"I'm not trying to drive us apart," he sighed, sinking to his knees so that he could try and glimpse her face, but she turned away, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I promise. You'll never believe the day I've had."

"And what about me? What about my day? I spent it looking forward to being with you tonight, happy that you were finally going to listen to me, that you were finally going to give us a shot." She looked up then and Harry almost wished she hadn't. "Harry, I've been waiting here for hours…in this stupid dress that I bought to impress you."

"The dress is lovely," Harry said lamely, making her scoff and turn away again. He was always rubbish at trying to cheer Ginny when he'd messed things up, which was more often than he cared to admit. "Ginny, please look at me," he asked, gently coaxing her face toward him with a nudging finger on her chin. "I'm sorry. Tell me what to do to make it up to you."

"What was so important at work? Hermione was home a few hours ago." Harry winced at her words and the accusation in her eyes.

"I wasn't at work. I was at the pub with Ron," he admitted because he was fairly certain she already knew that. "I'd had a rough day and I was trying to take the edge off. Time slipped away from me."

Ginny gave a derisive laugh. "Funny how that seems to happen when you have plans with me."

"That's not true," he argued, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew better. He tried to remember the last time he and Ginny had been alone together for any length of time and found himself coming up short. Mostly he saw her when they both went out with Hermione and Ron, or met her for Sunday brunch with her family, or when she popped by unexpectedly. Ever since his friends' engagement, Harry had been reluctant to spend time with Ginny for fear of the demands she would make on him.

Harry was just starting out as an Auror, trying to create a name for himself that didn't have Voldemort's attached to it. He couldn't afford to distract himself with marriage and a family just yet. Or at least that's what Harry told himself. But then he looked into Ginny's shining eyes and wondered if he was just being selfish. He was going to lose this brave and beautiful girl if he didn't do something different. "Gin," he began, his mouth going dry around the words.

"Tell me about your day," she said, cutting him off. Her eyes were warm again, if not as full of life and happiness as they once were.

The tenderness in her voice, her hand pressed within his, her understanding tone had him sagging against her. "I'm supposed to seduce someone in order to gain secrets," he blurted, shivering with revulsion at the thought.

"Oh?" Ginny bristled beneath him, her body stiffening as if bracing for a blow.

"It's not what you think," he rushed to explain. "It's Malfoy. Can you believe that?" he huffed. "Your brother really threw me under the Knight Bus in that meeting today. Now I'm supposed to find some way to get a man who hates me almost as much as I hate him to tell me his deepest and darkest secrets so that I can haul him off to Azkaban."

Harry felt Ginny relax beneath him, an audible sigh leaving her lips. "Well, that's good though, isn't it? I mean, you've wanted him put away and now you're in charge of making it happen," she pointed out.

"I guess, but you should have heard Fledgecraft today. It's like he's whoring me out to the bad guys," he countered with a shudder.

"It's not as though you have to sleep with him or anything, Harry," she laughed. "Think of how often I used to get my way without shagging you," she teased, smirking slightly.

Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes. "So, you're saying I should just pretend to be a manipulative woman?" he scoffed, a smile curling the edges of his lips.

"Exactly," she purred, kissing the tip of his nose.

Feeling at ease for the first time in a while, alone with Ginny without having to worry about a barrage of demands, Harry let his guard down and ran his hands through his girlfriend's hair, relishing in the silken strands caressing his palm. "Move in with me."

Ginny's eyes went wide and Harry faltered, second guessing his request in the very next moment. That look, he'd seen it before and he knew it all too well. That was the look of feigned shock she'd given when Hermione planned a surprise party for her that Harry had been unable to keep secret. He swallowed thickly as it dawned on him that what they'd just been joking about doing to Malfoy she'd been doing to him in earnest this entire time. Knowing Ginny, this might have been her exact plan all along.

"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Harry's neck and smothering him in a tight hug. "You won't regret this, I promise!"

Pulling away, Ginny leapt to her feet, her dress clinging to every curve as she moved toward the fireplace. "I should go pack! Oh, Harry!" she paused near the entrance, practically vibrating with glee. "This is going to be perfect, just perfect."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, keeping a forced smile on his face, "perfect."

Ginny grinned broadly and bounded for the fireplace, gone the moment she uttered her address after once again getting what she wanted from Harry. Feeling hollow and a tad used, he let his head fall against the table leg. Perhaps, if nothing else, he could learn from Ginny's manipulations and put them to good use on the Malfoy case.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry <strong>stood, nude and awkward in front of his bedroom mirror, a million questions and doubts flitting through his mind. He jabbed at his gut, watching the flesh whiten and then return to its normal pinkish tan. It didn't jiggle, which was a plus, but he was softer than he'd like, no longer quite as tight as he was when he'd come out of training. He vowed to return to playing Quidditch after tonight and get back into prime shape.

Would Malfoy find him attractive enough to take him back to the Manor?

Was he even Malfoy's type?

Was he really going to go through with this?

He turned slightly, scrutinizing his bum with a frown, shaking it at his reflection before snorting aloud. What the hell was he doing? This wasn't him. He'd never checked himself out in the mirror before, and it didn't help that the magical glass was catcalling. "Oh shut up," he muttered, yanking his wardrobe doors open and started to dress.

As soon as Harry managed to pull the jumper over his head, hair standing on end from the static, the bedroom door opened and Hermione trotted in, arms laden with Merlin knew what. "Was the art of knocking not covered in 'Hogwarts: A History'?"

Hermione ignored the question and dumped her bags onto his bed, immediately stalking up to him and plucking at his hair. "You're not wearing this," she said resolutely after giving him a long, examining stare.

"I-what?" Harry stammered, staring down at his clothes. "What's wrong with this?"

"You're going to a nightclub to pick up Draco Malfoy, Harry. You have to be sharply dressed and immaculately groomed," she quipped. "Did you shave?"

Harry rubbed at his chin, which felt fairly bereft of stubble. "Well enough."

With narrowed eyes and an amused smile, Hermione shook her head. "I wasn't talking about your face."

"Oh…oh…bloody hell, Hermione!" Harry shouted, flushing like crazy.

His friend snickered as she turned to pry open one of her bags, tossing it to Harry. "I took the liberty of bringing some other options. They should all be your size. Wear what you're most comfortable with," she instructed, gesturing to the door of his washroom. "Oh, and Harry, don't forget to tidy up," she added with a wink before he slammed the door on her giggling face.

"Most comfortable?" Harry scoffed as he stared down into the bag of slinky dress shirts and tailored trousers. With obvious ire, he pulled the items out, one by one, finally settling on a pair of black slacks and a formfitting cashmere pullover in a pale green color. He hoped the color would appeal to Malfoy's Slytherin sensibilities and he had to admit, it rather complimented his eyes.

Trousers undone, Harry stared down, chewing his lip nervously as he thought of Hermione's words. It was more than likely that she was just teasing him, but maybe she was right. Aiming his wand and squinting in concentration, Harry trimmed away the hair surrounding his cock before admiring his handiwork in the mirror. "Hm," he mused, fairly pleased. "It looks bigger."

Blushing and rolling his eyes at his own observations, Harry finished up and hurried from the bathroom into Hermione's waiting attention. She set about making his hair mildly presentable and smiled warmly at his choice of attire –not that he'd had much choice.

"Put this in your ear," she said, handing him a small, clear dot. "It'll allow Ron and me to monitor your progress and you'll be able to hear us both if we need to tell you anything."

"I know how it works, Mione," Harry huffed. "This isn't my first mission, you know?"

"I know," she sighed, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "But I know this one is a tad more personal. And you can't like the idea of having to get so close to Malfoy."

"No," he complained, already feeling awkward. "I don't. But I'm a professional and this is my job. I'm the one who insisted on being an Auror, remember?"

Hermione laughed and nodded, a faint smile on her lips. "Yes, you've been pretty adamant. But you don't have to do this, Harry. You don't have to keep proving yourself. If Fledgecraft wants to continue this vendetta against you, you don't have to play along."

"I know that," Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair and ruining Hermione's efforts to improve it. "But he thinks I'm just getting by on my name, and that couldn't be further from the truth. If anything, it only makes my job harder."

"Why didn't you just tell him you and Ginny had moved in together?" she asked quietly, her brown eyes sparkling with warmth. Harry knew she wasn't asking as his teammate any longer, but as his friend.

"Because we hadn't, and I refuse to rush things along with Ginny simply because it would be convenient for work," he replied firmly, purposefully leaving out the bit about him asking her to move in the night before and feeling like a complete heel afterward. Hermione and Ron would find out soon enough. They probably already would have if not for the fact that Fledgecraft had kept them all tied up in his office going over the Malfoy files again.

"Well," she said, almost preening, as if she'd taught Harry all of his good sense –which was only partly true. "I think that's an admirable quality, Harry. But it's been five years. Would moving in together really be rushing things?"

Harry knew that tone, but ignored it. "What are those?" he asked, gesturing to the leather pouch on the bed with several vials of liquid.

Hermione hesitated, as though teetering on the verge of pressing the Ginny issue, but eventually gave into her urge to explain everything. Harry smirked subtly, he'd known it would work. "Various potions to get you out of sticky situations. The blue one will knock him out, the red one will cause temporary invisibility, and the green….well," she stammered with a blush, "the green one will increase virility." The last word was more of a cough, but Harry heard it just fine. "It will allow you to fake an erection if…"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," Harry murmured, too embarrassed for them both to allow her to continue. "Let's just hope I don't need it, yeah?" Hermione nodded but gave him a quizzical look. "Because the blue or red potion works, not because I'm turned on without using the green potion," he rushed to explain, but Hermione's confused look only deepened before washing away altogether.

"Right," she said, rushing over to grab the potions, strapping them just beneath the hem of Harry's trousers. "Do they get in the way of your shoes?" she asked, making minor adjustments to their placement.

"No. They're fine." Harry took one last glance in the mirror, thanking Hermione for all her hard work. "Where's Ron?"

"Already at the nightclub. He's bribing some bartenders for information and making sure we know every exit in case we need to bolt in a hurry," she said.

"I guess it's time to go then," he muttered, more nervous now than when he'd had to tell Ginny about the mission. But maybe this would turn out much the same way that had, with everything going better than expected and no one getting shagged. "So…do I look like someone Malfoy would like to fuck?" he asked with a grimace as he tried to keep a teasing lilt in his voice to cover the sheer terror running through his veins.

Hermione snorted and squeezed her friend's shoulder. "He's a fool if he doesn't," she said before leading them from Grimmauld Place to Harry's certain doom.

**Author's Note:** For those following me on Twitter, I told you it would get funnier.


	3. Confrontation

Author's Note: Hey look, it's me again. Back with another chapter. Yay! *Waves hands frantically in the air trying to bolster support* My Beta has left me to my own devices this week, but she should be back soon. In the meantime, I decided to post this chapter anyway. So, please ignore any minor or glaring errors as you read.

Chapter 3 Confrontation

Even with the magical listening device embedded in his ear, it was still hard to hear his partners over the booming music in the nightclub. The place was mostly dark, with patches here and there illuminated in colored light and beams through fog swaying over the dance floor and the many writhing patrons. It was just enough to keep people from bumping into furniture and make everyone seem more attractive than they really were.

Sitting on a stool at the bar, Harry sighed and swirled his untouched martini. He should have had three by now, enough liquid courage to allow him to proceed with this mission, but he was a professional, and there would be no drinking on the job tonight or any other night. "Any sign of him?" he asked, seemingly to the air, but a buzz in his ear alerted him to Hermione and Ron's presence.

"Not yet," Ron replied. Harry knew he was near the entrance, hoping to give Harry enough time to jump into action when the Slytherin prat arrived. "The bartender said he usually doesn't arrive until closer to midnight."

"Then why were we here at half ten?" Harry groaned, eating an olive from his drink.

"Because we couldn't take a chance on missing him," Hermione replied sharply from near the loo.

"Yeah yeah," Harry muttered into his glass. "What a pity that would have been."

"Activity at the door," Ron announced, interrupting them. "I have visual. The target has arrived and he has a few friends with him."

"Shit," Hermione uncharacteristically replied, mirroring Harry's thoughts. They hadn't planned for company. Malfoy usually came alone. "It's fine. We'll deal with it. Ron, how many, and do we know them?"

"Zabini, Nott and Goyle," Ron replied. "They are being escorted to a booth in the back. Bloody hell," he groaned, pulling Harry's attention toward the way Ron had spoken of. Sure enough, a shock of blond hair caught his eye and Harry followed their path. He could see exactly why Ron was so agitated.

"VIP area," he muttered. "We're screwed. We can't get in and he doesn't have to come out until he's ready to leave. He might have picked someone else up by then," Harry added, shocked at how disappointed he sounded. Of course, if he didn't bag Malfoy tonight, that only meant he would have to try again later, which wasn't in his favor. He wanted this mission over with.

Hermione sighed into the earpiece. "You could, Harry."

Harry bristled at the insinuation, even though it was likely true. After the war, the entire Wizarding world seemed to divide into two separate factions. One group, like his boss, seemed to think Potter was a show off who never earned his place and had everything delivered to him on a silver platter, while the rest thought his very footsteps were precious and would part water to give Harry anything he asked for. It was ridiculous, but it was his life and he'd been forced to deal with both reactions.

"Fine. I'll try," Harry muttered when Hermione cleared her throat sharply enough that even through the earpiece, Harry knew it was intentional.

He slipped from his seat at the bar and brushed his hair out of his face, letting his scar show plainly on his forehead. Drink in hand, he made his way slowly toward the private area, nodding at the bouncer at the velvet rope. "Evening," he greeted simply.

"Mr. Potter. Management had no idea you were gracing our establishment with your presence," said a slim man from just the other side of the rope. "Please, come in. Will anyone be joining you this evening, or would you like for me to find you some company?" the man asked, tapping the bouncer on the shoulder to allow Harry entrance.

The velvet rope lifted and Harry cocked a brow, stepping through to address the man personally. He started to wonder just what kind of club this was and how far the man would go to provide him with 'company'. But that was a mission for another night and another Auror. Harry's mission was laughing in the corner with his mates. "I might be expecting a couple friends," he answered vaguely. It wasn't ideal for both Hermione and Ron to enter the VIP area with him at this juncture of the mission, especially if Malfoy left the space to dance or use the loo. He still needed eyes and ears in the main club, but he also needed to leave it open for one or both of them to join him if he needed it.

"Of course. It was presumptuous of me to assume you needed any assistance in that area," the man bootlicked, and because Harry wanted the man to go away, and needed to play a part tonight, he merely sneered.

"Yes, it was." Without another word, Harry found a booth not too close but not too far from where Malfoy sat with his friends.

It became obvious pretty quickly why the men were there. Nott, it seemed, was getting married in the morning and the four friends were out celebrating their stag night. Harry thought of Ginny, what she must be thinking with him out on a mission to seduce Draco Malfoy. She didn't seem concerned, but Ginny wasn't one to open up with her feelings right away. Knowing her, there would be hell to pay tomorrow or later in the week even though it wasn't as if he wanted to be here.

As if the earpieces could read his mind, Ron's voice buzzed to life in his ear. "So, how did Gin take the news that you planned to fuck Malfoy tonight?"

Harry choked on his own breath. "I'm not fucking him. I just have to make it seem as though I'm willing," Harry said, cringing at the idea. It was bad enough that his target was Draco Malfoy, but moreover, he really hated deceiving people in general. Especially when it came to matters of the heart. Not that Malfoy's heart would have anything to do with it if he brought Harry home with him.

"I know mate, but you know my sis. She loves to blow things out of proportion," he replied.

"She was alarmingly understanding," Harry said and left it at that.

"Can I remind you both that the focus tonight is Draco Malfoy, _not _Ginny Weasley," Hermione huffed into the earpiece, startling them both. "You're going to knock Harry off his game if you keep reminding him of his girlfriend when he's supposed to be out here seducing Malfoy."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine at her last words but he bristled in defense. "I'm fine, Mione. How about you _both_ stop chattering in my ear so that I can concentrate and get this done."

When the noise abruptly halted and all Harry could hear was the thump of music, he sighed with relief and turned in his seat to look at Malfoy. During his little debate with his friends, he'd been neglecting his target…but his target hadn't been neglecting him. Draco was staring, full on, watching Harry with a confused glint in those cold grey eyes, and Harry realized that for the past twenty minutes it must have looked like he was talking –or rather yelling- at himself.

A flush stole over his cheeks and he silently groaned. How the hell was he supposed to seduce Draco Malfoy if his first impression was to seem like a madman? He quickly recovered his scheme and tipped his head in Malfoy's direction, noting the mild sneer Draco returned as a point against his mission. What was Fledgecraft thinking sending him out here like this? Of all the people in the world, Harry was the least likely person to woo someone like Malfoy, even if it was all a ploy.

"I can't do this," he whispered and made to stand. Only the shrill voice of Hermione in his ear halted his steps.

"Yes you can," she insisted. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, but I know you can be charming, Harry. Put that to good use now."

He scoffed lightly, knowing perfectly well that she'd hear, and turned back to Malfoy and his merry band of idiots. "Celebrating?" he called over, trying for a winning smile. All four men ignored him as if he'd been a whisper on the wind. So he simply got up and walked over to where they were sitting. "Celebrating?" he repeated, as if he thought they hadn't been able to hear him over the music and hadn't just ignored him outright.

"We heard you, Potter. We just weren't interested in fraternizing with poncy Gryffindors." This from Zabini, who was clearly already pissed, his current drink sloshing in his glass as he gestured wildly.

"Yeah," added Nott, nudging his friend in the ribcage, "what's the point of a VIP area if they just let any old rubbish in?"

Although Harry was an adult and their words did no more to his ego then sting it a bit, he still managed to glean a great deal from the brief, albeit rude, exchange. The first was that Malfoy winced ever-so-slightly when Zabini had called him a ponce. That could only mean one of two things. Either he was feeling a moment of protectiveness of his old Hogwarts nemesis, or his best friends didn't know that he was a lover of cock. Harry was betting on the latter.

The other thing Harry learned was that Malfoy's friends would make his job difficult, but luckily they all seemed to be well on their way to passing out in an alleyway somewhere. "Why don't I buy you lot a drink!" he offered enthusiastically, waving the waitress over. He pretended to be oblivious to the Slytherins attitude toward him and slid into the booth beside Malfoy, throwing his arm casually around the blond's shoulders, much to said-blond's dismay.

"Potter," Draco drawled, lifting Harry's arm as if it was infected with some kind of contagious flesh eating disease and tossed it away from his person, "have you gone completely mental?"

Harry donned a look of confusion, taking a moment to bat his dark lashes before glancing at the rest of the dumbfounded friends. "No. Course not. I was just trying to be friendly! We're all adults now, why can't we be civil?"

"We just…can't," Malfoy replied, as if he was equally puzzled over Potter's logic. The waitress came over with glasses of what each bloke was already drinking and they all eyed them greedily, regardless of who bought them. "Look, thanks for the drinks, but this is a private party. I'm sure you understand," Malfoy added with a sneer.

"Sure, sure. I understand," Harry said, moving to get up. But just before he slid from the vinyl of the booth, he took a chance and leaned into Malfoy's body, pressing close to his porcelain ear. "I'll be having a _private_ party of my own later…if you're free," he whispered in what he hoped was a seductive purr. He feared he fell short, especially when he heard the sound of poorly concealed laughter filling his ears. For a moment he flushed, thinking that Malfoy was blatantly scoffing at him, but he quickly realized the fit of giggles was coming from Ron through his earpiece. He gritted his teeth and vowed to strangle his ginger partner the moment this nightmare of an evening was over.

Malfoy, thankfully, wasn't laughing at all. He looked mildly shocked, but he quickly recovered and gave Harry and amused smirk. "Good one, Potter. See you around, yeah?"

"Count on it," Harry replied with a wink and sauntered – or at least he desperately hoped it looked like sauntering – out of the VIP area and toward the dance floor where Hermione was waiting.

He rolled his eyes as soon as she came into view. "Your fiancé won't make it to the wedding if he keeps being such a childish arse," Harry warned.

"Oi," his friend heard over the earpiece but ignored it.

"I'll deal with him," Hermione assured, casting a glare in the direction Harry knew Ron to be surveying. "You made decent progress."

"You're not seriously referring that travesty of epic proportions as _progress_," Harry scoffed. "Were you even listening?"

"You took him off guard," she pointed out. "You made him wonder, if for only a minute. You planted the seed, now we just have to nurture it to grow."

"You sound like Neville," Harry noted with a frown.

"Stop being so stubborn, Harry," she grumbled. "I guarantee he's thinking about you right now."

"Fuck off, Mione." But sure enough, as Harry cast a glance back at the blond prat he found Malfoy watching him. "Well, look at that," he all but preened.

"See," Hermione cooed, a smug grin on her face that would rival any Slytherin. "Now, let's test it, give him more reason to wonder."

Her words made Harry nervous and he had every right to be, because no sooner than the words left her mouth, she was shoving Harry onto the dance floor. "Hermione, what are you up to?" Ron asked through their magical link.

"Making Malfoy want what he can't have," she replied. "It's a classic attraction maneuver." Turning to Harry, she grinned. "Choose someone that would make Malfoy jealous."

"Malfoy has no reason to be jealous," Harry pointed out.

"Just pick someone," Hermione repeated, he tone somewhat testy.

Harry scanned the crowd, all lithe bodies gyrating to the music. This was a test for Malfoy, but it was a test for him as well. If he couldn't dance with one of these blokes and fool Malfoy from afar, he stood no chance of tricking the blond when they were up close and personal. "Alright," he huffed, nodding toward a fit bloke near the center. His hair just grazed his shoulders and was a deep crimson that reminded Harry of what Ginny's looked like under candlelight. He wore a simple pair of dark-washed denims and a plain white shirt, which Harry appreciated amongst so many people dressing to impress.

Before he could ask Hermione what to do, she was worming her way through the crowd, stopping in front of the gentleman in question. She leaned in and spoke to him for a long moment, then the man's gaze flicked over to Harry and he felt his cheeks heat. Harry's embarrassment was met with a warm smile, a nod and a wave for Harry to accompany him.

"I hate you," Harry hissed in Hermione's direction as she passed him on his way into the center of the dance floor.

"You Love me," she chirped in a singsong voice that echoed through the earpiece.

"Hi," Harry greeted lamely, but his new dance partner didn't seem the least put off. If anything he seemed charmed.

"So, you're friend said you need to make an ex jealous?" he said, starting to rock his hips to the beat of the music.

Harry sputtered slightly but recovered quickly and nodded. "Yeah. He's over there with his friends and she thought it would be a good idea…."

His voice trailed off as he heard Ron's voice tittering in his ear. "What happened to the _private party_, Harry?" he asked and Harry just knew his friend was making some sort of crude pelvic thrust to accompany his taunt.

Harry ignored his 'friend' as best he could and caught the tail end of his new friend's story about some git who had dumped him recently and how he'd only wished he'd gotten the opportunity to make him jealous. "Yeah….it's not usually my style, but when will another opportunity like this come up?" he played along.

"Well, let's get to it then," the bloke said, his voice the seductive purr Harry had wished his had been earlier that night. "I'm Geoff."

"Harry," he replied in turn and did his best to look cozy as the man wound his arms around Harry's waist and began to grind in time with the music. He tried to relax into the beat, letting himself go as he tried to remember this was all for the mission. Slowly he allowed his Auror instincts to settle into the background and began to dance in earnest, spurred on by the sultry smile Geoff was giving him.

"It's working," Hermione informed him, the earpiece coming to life with a crackle. Harry found he'd nearly forgotten the unobtrusive object as he was dancing, although that was probably only because Hermione had threatened Ron with celibacy if he didn't stop his antics.

"It seems to be working," Geoff said, unknowingly mirroring Hermione's words, his head bobbing softly in Malfoy's direction as he stalked across the club and onto the dance floor. Harry let himself look, locking his gaze with Malfoy's smoldering grey as he slinked possessively closer.

"A word, Potter?" he demanded, nearly shoving himself between the other men.

"Malfoy? What do you need?" Harry responded, his grin all casual aloofness

Geoff held up his hands and backed off, shooting Harry a wink in the process. "Hey, I don't want any trouble. I didn't know he had a boyfriend."

The immediate reaction to that title sent Malfoy's skin into such a brilliant shade of pink that Harry could have kissed Geoff for playing along so brilliantly. "He's not my boyfriend," he bit out.

"Pity," Geoff said. "This one's special. If he were mine, I'd hold onto him."

Draco glowered, directing the look between Harry and Geoff alike, before dragging Harry from the dance floor and into a dark corner near the loo. "What are you playing at, Potter?" he hissed when they were alone.

Harry merely shrugged, marveling at how perfectly Hermione's plan was falling together. He knew it shouldn't after all this time, but her cleverness still surprised him on occasion. "I was hoping to be playing with you, but you didn't seem interested."

"Oh gods," spluttered a squeaky whimper in his earpiece. "I can't take it…I just…." The words faded into a high-pitched snicker that had Harry squinting.

"Merlin, Ron. Would you grow up!" he heard Hermione shout and then there was silence. She must have disconnected the feed so that Harry could concentrate - another reason he had to thank her later.

Draco narrowed his eyes, obviously suspicious. "You're up to something, Potter. I just can't figure out what…but I will," he warned, giving Harry one last lingering look before storming off, back to his friends.

Harry sagged against the wall, watching Malfoy retreat along with any chance of completing his task tonight. Somehow the plan had backfired and instead of Malfoy being putty in his hands, he was more suspicious than ever. He sighed and tapped his inner ear, as if that would turn the earpiece back on. It didn't, of course, and only served to illuminate Harry's isolation in that sliver of time.

Instead of rounding up his not-so-helpful partners, Harry slipped out the back door of the club, disappearing down the alley and Apparating to Grimmauld Place, grateful to find it empty for once. Without hesitation, Harry climbed into bed, not even bothering to shower the club funk from his skin and he slept soundly, the beat of obscure music and the face of his target floating through his mind.

Author's Note: Oooh…that sounded ominous, didn't it? Anyhow, one cranky-pants Draco doll for all who are sweet enough to review.


	4. Flicker

Author's Note: Brilliant hugs to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I appreciate that no one seemed to mind my lack of beta on Chapter 3, so since Amanda is still in Germany and depressingly out of reach, I decided to go ahead and post this chapter without beta as well, so please disregard any blatant errors on my account.

**Chapter 4 - Flicker**

Draco got out of bed and scowled at his reflection. Bleary gray eyes stared back at him, his body mottled with fine lines from where the seams of his bed linens pressed into his dehydrated skin. He cast a quick glance back at his empty bed and his mood dipped further. He'd been having fun with the boys, dinner, drinks and general frivolity until Blaise got a wild hair up his arse to go to _his_ club.

They didn't know it was a club Malfoy frequented, of course, just thought it would be a laugh and Draco was forced to pretend he didn't know every host and bartender in the place for the duration of the evening. Then Potter had to crash their party and set his mind reeling. What the fuck had he been doing there? And who the hell was that bloke he'd been practically fucking on the dance floor?

He narrowed eyes at himself in the mirror and huffed. "It doesn't matter if Potter's bent or not. He's not your type anyhow," his reflection reasoned and Draco could only nod.

"Of course he's not," he repeated, assuring himself. It wasn't that Potter wasn't attractive, what with the jewel-like eyes and the strong jaw and from what he could tell beneath his clothes, the man was fit. But Malfoy preferred to choose men who were less conspicuous than the Wizarding World's Golden Boy. One night with him and it would be impossible to keep his secret.

A dreadful idea dawned on him and Draco summoned his house-elf, demanding tea, water and the morning's paper before padding into the adjoining room for a piping hot shower. As the water crested over his skin, burning away the smell of smoke, sweat and spilled alcohol, Draco thought back over the events of last night - Potter's gravelly voice in his ear, his lithe arm tossed so casually over his shoulders and the hot line of his body where it pressed right against his own and began scrubbing furiously along his flesh to drive the memories away.

He'd never thought of Potter in any sort of romantic sense before. He'd always been the model wizard, the powerful do-gooder that would marry, have his two-point-five children and a family pet. He was every normal man's ideal and certainly no gay man's fantasy. Well. Maybe that wasn't true, but Draco was never sadistic enough to pine for something that was so far out of grasp. He had plenty of prospects well within his reach, what would be the point of desiring the unattainable?

Until it began to seem the impossible was within range after all.

Draco shook his head and stepped from the shower, toweling off as he padded over to the silver tray left by the fireplace in his bedroom. He took a long gulp of water before settling down in his favorite wingback and flipped quickly through the paper. A sigh of relief shuddered through him as he carefully scanned each and every page without seeing mention of him and Potter together. There was a brief story about Potter and his name being thrown into the mix for the promotion of Head Auror, but Draco passed that over with little thought. There wasn't a day that went by without _some_ mention of Potter and his exploits, but lucky for him, no one at the club must have seen them together.

Taking a sip of his tea and settling his nerves, Draco felt a bit more confident. Perhaps he could dig a little deeper into the mystery Potter presented without drawing attention to himself. If he were careful, Draco could avoid being the target of gossip and satisfy his newfound curiosity all at once.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry<strong> wiped the spittle from his brow and glared back at the man who was reprimanding him rather vehemently. It took all of his limited self control to sit in silence as Fledgecraft berated him for failing his mission the previous night.

"You didn't even try," the man growled angrily, his face a deep shade of purple. "Do you understand what's riding on this, Auror Potter?"

Harry did understand. He understood perfectly. He wasn't nearly as dim as his boss seemed to think. The Ministry rumor mill was nearly as effective as at Hogwarts and there probably wasn't a soul who didn't know that Fledgecraft had a bid in for Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, which would give him nearly as much power as the Minister himself. Fledgecraft was a political man, and joining the Auror division was a strong move in his grand scheme. His family connections and strong ambitions gave him a leg up over anyone who sought competition and his swift promotions through the department might be called premature if not for the fear people had in uttering a word against Fledgecraft.

Part of the man's grudge against Harry was that he thought Potter was coming along to claim what he saw as rightfully his – scavenge the clout and the prestige that Fledgecraft had molded for himself over the last decade. However, Harry had no mind to do anything of the sort. He just wanted to catch corrupt wizards and make peoples' lives run a little bit smoother each day.

Fledgecraft didn't believe him and neither did the Minister, who had placed Harry's name into the running as Fledgecraft's successor to the Head Auror position whether his superior was elected to the Wizengamot or not. It put Harry in the center of an unnecessarily tense work environment and made him unwanted friends and dangerous enemies within the department.

"I'm aware," Harry bit out when he was given his turn to speak by a brief pause where Fledgecraft had to take a breath, "that you think the arrest and imprisonment of Draco Malfoy will be the ticket you need to secure your new post." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before plowing ahead, "And trust me, no one would rejoice at seeing his smirking face behind Azkaban bars more than I, but what you're asking is immoral and against every belief I have as an Auror and moreover a _human being_."

He caught the triumphant beam from Hermione's direction and fought his own smile as Fledgecraft sat back in his chair and appraised Harry fully. "So, to be clear, you think that as an Auror, you can pick and choose which missions you accept?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "That's not what I said," he corrected.

"Then get something straight, Auror Potter. As long as you work in this department, you work under my command. If you take issue in your assignment, I urge you to discuss it with the Minister, but until then, when I give you a mission you will complete it. Without. Question," he ordered, biting each word sharply from his too-small mouth. "Is that understood?"

"It is," Harry answered bitterly as he, Ron and Hermione rose to leave the office.

"A word, Potter," he called after the trio. "Alone."

Harry froze, his fingers flexing into fists at his side. He nodded curtly to both of his friends and turned, as the door shut behind him and left him alone with Fledgecraft. "Not finished demoralizing me, Sir?" he ground out, the tight rein on his anger slowly unfettering.

Fledgecraft ignored the rhetorical question and simply waved Potter into the chair he'd just vacated. Harry took it, reluctantly, but refused to speak again until his superior made it clear why he was detained in the first place. "I don't understand why you and I have to butt heads so often, Potter," he said, suddenly immersed in his political masks. "We could be a great help to one another."

Silently sputtering, Harry just shook his head in amazement. "We constantly 'butt heads', Sir, because you've treated me like a fraud from the moment I joined the program. I just want to do _my_ job and _your _job seems to be making that both painful and impossible."

Again, Fledgecraft chose to hear only what he wanted from that statement, or at the least only acknowledged part. "I want you to do your job too, Harry," he explained, using his given name without permission as if they'd been best mates all along. "I want you to be the best Auror in the department. I want you to take over my position here when I'm promoted to Chief Warlock, but I can't get that promotion without this arrest."

The only thing Harry hated worse than an outright prat like Fledgecraft was a prat who tried to manipulate him with false sincerity. Harry might still be young, only in his first years at the Ministry, but he'd been dealing with people like Fledgecraft his entire life and knew a bit about what not to trust when they opened their mouths."With all due respect, _Sir_," Harry bit out angrily, "from what I understand, that position could very well be mine whether you're promoted or simply transferred to another department altogether. Archives for instance," he added snidely, a touch of a smirk on his lips.

All pretended friendliness faded in an instant, and Harry had to stifle the urge to point out that maybe instead of trying to prosecute Malfoy, he should try learning a thing or two about schooling his reactions from the stoic blond. Instead he just sat back and watched Fledgecraft's poorly constructed plan crumble. "You and the Minister are pretty close, aren't you, Potter?" he asked at last.

"Kingsley and I are fairly good friends," Harry answered warily.

"You know that if he promotes you without my blessing it will appear to all of the Ministry and the public that he's playing favorites," Fledgecraft pointed out, a subtle smirk of his own sitting awkwardly on his face.

"There will always be people who think I don't deserve the honors I'm given, just like there will always be people who think the sun rises and sets in my arse," he explained. "But that doesn't mean any of them are right."

With that, Harry stood. "Will that be all, Sir?"

"You'll bring me the information that will seal Malfoy's arrest or you'll find yourself unemployed, Potter. I'm still the department head, and even the Minister himself would have a hard time overturning the decision if I find you unfit for the job."

Silence hung in the air between them for what seemed like hours, but finally Harry nodded in what might appear defeat. "If idle threats are all that's left to plead your case, Fledgecraft, I honestly hope you never sit at the Wizengamot bench. I'll complete this mission because it's my job, and for now, you're my superior, but I was going to do that already," he noted before turning and leaving Fledgecraft's office for what he hoped would be the last time that day.

* * *

><p>"<strong>What<strong> did he say?" Ron asked the moment Harry sank into his desk chair, giving him a start. It seemed he'd been lurking in the small corner of Harry's cubicle that he couldn't see until he walked in. It shouldn't have surprised him, Ron was a closeted gossip and a meeting alone between Harry and Fledgecraft would have been water cooler worthy conversation.

"Nothing I haven't heard before," Harry answered truthfully and evasively. If Harry was against politics for personal reasons, Ron was against them because he had no place in that world. He was the most honest, hot-headed, conclusion-jumping person Harry knew, and that included himself. If he told Ron that Fledgecraft had threatened him, he'd have a war on his hands and Harry didn't see any time for fighting fires in the office when there were plenty to fight in the streets.

Ron would have burst into Fledgecraft's office, wands blazing, and demand retribution for his friend, but that was entirely unnecessary. Harry had handled it, and though he knew Fledgecraft was nowhere near staying off his arse, he also thought they had reached an understanding - Harry would only be pushed so far before he started pushing back.

"Fine," Ron huffed, not fooled. "Don't tell me, but you know Hermione will just turn around and tell me later."

"I know," Harry confirmed, his features set in amusement. "Which is why I'm not telling her either."

"Was it that bad?" chimed a voice from his doorway and Harry didn't have to look up to know it was his other best friend.

"No. It was nothing. And it will stay nothing if I keep my trap shut," he corrected, mimicking a key at the corner of his lips, which he threw dramatically over his shoulder.

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Just so long as you know that if you need to talk…"

"You're here. I know, Mione. Thanks, but it was nothing. Really," he repeated, patting the other chair in his office for her to take a seat. "So, how do we bag Malfoy?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

Ron let out a humor filled snort, which earned him an elbow from his fiancée and Harry shook his head in mild dismay. "Ronald, do grow up," she lectured before sinking into her own personal Auror mask, which Harry liked to call 'Research Mode'. "Well, there is always the Claremont Charity Ball tomorrow night," she mentioned, a smug look on her face. "I've already checked and Malfoy has RSVP'd his attendance."

"A Ball might be easier to demand his attention," Ron pointed out. "We could probably even arrange you both at the same table."

"Brilliant," Harry said, only half-heartedly. This whole mission felt like an omen, something heavier than Fledgecraft's promotion and Harry's childhood vendetta was riding on his success, he just wished he knew what. "Ron, you take care of my reservation and the seating arrangements. Hermione, I'm going to need a bevy of ideas at my disposal to get Malfoy to ask me home with him, and even more ideas that will keep me _out_ of his bed. You up for that?"

"The question is, Harry," Ron interjected, "Are you?"

It took all of three seconds before Ron had dissolved into a puddle of laughter and no amount of glaring from Hermione and Harry seemed to quell it. "Ronald, if you insist on being a child, perhaps you should just stay home the night of the gala," Hermione bit out.

Slowly the laughter died, Ron's cheeks still pink. "Fine, fine. It's only funny though because it's so far from the truth. Could you image anyone who was less of a poufter than our Harry here?" he asked, throwing his arm around his friend, who stared at the limb with annoyance and tossed it off. "See! He doesn't even like friendly hugs from blokes."

"Ron," Hermione hissed quietly, her gaze flicking curiously to Harry's. "Just give it a rest, okay?"

"Fine!" Ron huffed, throwing up his hands in defeat. "So, we'll meet at Harry's place at nine?"

"Eight," Hermione answered before Harry had the chance. "We'll need plenty of time to prepare Harry for the ball and dinner is served promptly at half past nine. Harry will need time to mingle beforehand."

"It's settled then," Harry sighed, feeling like a pawn in someone's grand scheme and he desperately wanted out. "Can I please get back to work now? I still have to write up my report about this weekend."

"Of course, Harry. We'll get out of your hair," Hermione replied, tugging Ron up and out of Harry's cubicle.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry's<strong> foyer was so choked with boxes when he arrived home he couldn't see through to the living room. "Sweet baby Merlin how much stuff did you have back at the Burrow?" he called over the tower of Ginny's things blocking his way.

When he didn't hear an answer he was forced to Apparate into his own kitchen, grudgingly putting on a kettle. He found no trace of Ginny in the house, so it seemed she'd just abandoned him with her mess. He sincerely hoped she didn't expect him to put it all away for her.

He waded through her things until he spotted the stairway, Apparating to the landing and trudging up to his room. The gala was tonight and he had little time to prepare. After a barrage of intrusive conversations throughout the day he'd been forced to stay late to finish his report and thus declined Hermione's help this time, insisting that he was perfectly capable of dressing himself.

Without giving a voice to his thoughts, Harry hoped Ginny would remain away tonight, at least until he had time to leave for the event. He didn't relish arguing with her over why he couldn't take her to the ball and had to work instead. Knowing Ginny loved to mingle and preen with so many influential witches and wizards, Harry felt a little guilty for not inviting her. He couldn't recall the last time he'd volunteered them both to attend a function like this together, even though a third of his closet was now filled with shining ball gowns that he'd never seen his girlfriend wear. She'd obviously been waiting some time to be asked on a glamorous date, but Harry hated the crowds and Ginny never pressed him too much.

Casting around for the vials Hermione had given him before their mission at the club, Harry finally found his final piece and after securing it into place, smoothed his robes with confident hands and went to the Floo downstairs, ready to take that fucker Malfoy down once and for all and be done with this whole mess.

**Author's Note:** I know a few of you were rather annoyed by Ron's banter, but I can't help but be amused by him. Gala invitations to all who review *wink*


	5. To Dance or Not to Dance

Author's Note: I went from Zero Beta's to three. I'm a lucky girl. Thanks loads to Arineat, Aeromance and Cris for their invaluable input.

Chapter 5

Harry arrived only a few minutes late to the Ministry ballroom, in finery he wagered not even Hermione could fault, and circled the room with a friendly smile plastered on his face. His friends joined him shortly, each taking turns leading the conversation, knowing how much Harry hated political games and idle chitchat. Before long they'd spoken to nearly everyone in the room except Malfoy, whom Harry noted was watching them very closely.

When it came time to make their way to the table they'd been assigned, Harry wasn't sure whether to be pleased or not that Ron had managed his goal and had them placed sitting directly across from Malfoy. A petite blonde woman, who Harry presumed was his date, sat beside him to Harry's chagrin. Theodore Nott was seated to Malfoy's left, alongside his fiancée, which turned out to be none other than Pansy Parkinson. All three were met with snubbed silence, the foursome's conversation dying abruptly on their lips as Harry took a seat beside Malfoy's date.

"I don't believe we've met." Harry instantly turned on the charm, smiling and extending a hand to the blonde, who blushed demurely. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Astoria Greengrass," she chimed, beaming at him despite Malfoy's scowl.

"A pleasure," he quipped, bringing her hand to his lips before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it, his eyes flicking once to Malfoy before he released her delicate hand. "These are my friend, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger," he introduced, being as formal as he knew how to be.

"Oh, I feel like I know all three of you already," she chirped excitedly, ignoring her friends as she leaned a bit closer to Harry. "You must tell me if all the stories are true."

"Which stories would those be?" Harry asked, feigning coyness, but Malfoy interrupted them a moment later.

"Yes, Potter. Do tell. Are the rumors about you true or _greatly_ exaggerated?" Malfoy drawled, a mixture of curiosity and malice in his tone.

Harry took his time letting his gaze linger on Draco's attractive date before falling on Malfoy himself. "You were skulking around in the background for most of it, Malfoy. You should know truth from fiction."

They stared at each other over the dinner rolls popping into existence on the table, not even Ron's immediate grab for the bread made either of them blink as they entered a silent war of wills. It was Nott that finally broke their standoff, his brows arched in amusement.

"I want to hear the story about what a seemingly straight bloke was doing at a gay club a few nights ago." The slight huff from Hermione could be heard clearly over the silence that stretched over the table.

"Likely not too different from you, Nott," Ron piped in. "Hermione and I were there as well, celebrating our engagement," he lied smoothly, shocking his fiancée and Harry both as they fought not to gape and make his fib useless. "We practically had to drag Harry out at all. He'd been perfectly content at home."

Although Harry appreciated the quick cover and defense of his sexuality, it felt like he was quickly losing the ground he'd built with Malfoy. "I wouldn't say you had to drag me," Harry corrected lightly. "There's nothing wrong with that club, or its patrons." His eyes barely left Draco's smoldering gaze as he spoke. "Although that was my first time at that particular establishment."

Fine lines crinkled around Malfoy's mercurial eyes as he seemed to scrutinize Harry more closely, but again, Theo's snide voice cut in and tore Harry's attention away from his target. "So, it's true then. You're a queen?" he laughed excitedly, as if he'd discovered Merlin's wand hidden in his own nightstand drawer.

"I think it's ignorant to jump to conclusions about someone you haven't spoken to in…well, ever," Harry remarked, no vehemence in his voice, just to the point. He saw Malfoy's jaw tense, waiting for a rebuke, but Theo just scoffed lightly and rolled his eyes, focusing his attentions on Pansy, who seemed to be caught in a perpetual sneer, thankfully hadn't yet decided to offer her own opinion.

"I'd love to hear all about your adventures, Harry," Astoria mused, her hand falling over his in a playful manner, but lingered there just a little too long for Harry's taste. Ron's as well it seemed.

Ron nudged Harry sharply before glaring daggers at the girl flirting with his little sister's boyfriend. "So, Astoria, is it? What is it you do? Besides cling to wealthy wizards, of course?"

She blushed furiously, but caught herself before showing any other sign of embarrassment. A quick glance at Malfoy showed a smug grin and Harry thought that was an interesting reaction indeed. He clearly didn't care much for his date if he were amused at her being called out for chatting up another man. She looked at him, batting her eyes demurely before turning back to Harry as she tried to recover the ground she'd lost.

"Draco and I are _not _a couple, if that's what you're thinking," she clarified. "Or at least he hasn't been civil enough to ask me yet. We're just friends."

"Oh," Harry replied, almost a sigh of relief, but then he'd suspected as much already. With difficulty, Harry attempted to continue feigning interest in Astoria once the truth came out. It wouldn't look well if he'd been spending time drawing her attention to goad Malfoy only to drop all pretenses when it was obvious there wasn't enough connection between the two of them to incite anything more than mild irritation. Besides, it wasn't his mission to persuade Astoria to bring him home tonight, though he wagered it wouldn't have taken as much to convince her as it was taking Malfoy.

Thankfully their meal soon presented itself and everyone was too distracted to continue their conversation and dinner pressed on in mostly amicable silence. Ron would occasionally mutter around the food in his mouth about how very delicious everything was, only to be met by sneers across the table. Hermione pointed out influential people they should be concerned with and Draco continued his smoldering stare-off with Harry. If Theo or Pansy noticed the slowly building tension between them, neither of them commented. Astoria, however, seemed to take immediate note of the lack of attention being paid to her and complained of a headache as dessert was being served.

"Draco, darling, can we please call it a night?" she whined. "It's been lovely meeting you all," she added as if remembering her manners. "I'm just not feeling very well all of a sudden."

"I'll walk with you, Tori," Draco replied, sweeping up like a gallant gentleman as he offered her his arm and began to lead her away from the table.

Harry sagged immediately in his seat, feeling his face set in a scowl until Hermione cleared her throat and looked at him pointedly. She was right. He needed to reign in his disappointment. It wouldn't do to have Theo and Pansy catching onto his little scheme and tattle to Malfoy before he had a chance to make his move. And it looked like it might be awhile before he succeeded.

Setting his shoulders once more, Harry began mentally checking off his own list of excuses to get him out of this blasted Gala early, but just as he was about to plead a forgotten Auror assignment he needed to finish up, Draco strolled back to the table. Alone.

"Astoria isn't feeling well, but wished me to extend her apologies to the table once again," Draco explained as he sat down.

Theo cocked a brow as a matched expression clouded Pansy's face. "You didn't go with her?" she asked. "Are you really never planning to settle down with her? She'd make the perfect wife for you, Draco."

Harry felt himself bristle at her words but quickly pushed down the unusual stirring of jealousy. A fiancée would be a distraction to the plan. Nothing more.

Draco simply rolled his eyes. "I told you, Pansy. I'm not ready to marry anyone. Though yes, Astoria would be an adequate candidate if I were. I let her go on her own because I have other business to attend to this evening," he quipped lightly, and Harry didn't think he was imagining that Draco's gaze flicked to him for the briefest of moments.

"Better be careful, Draco, or by the time you decide you want her, Potter might have swooped in and stolen her right out from under you," Theo teased, lips quirked into an amused smirk.

"I find it unlikely that Potter has any real interest in Astoria," Draco almost purred. "Isn't that right, Potter?"

Harry let his tongue flick out to wet his lips, leaving a glossy sheen behind as he debated what to do. Claim to want her and ignite some new competition between them or let it go, knowing that Malfoy would find it irritating. "She's not my type," he replied honestly, but didn't elaborate further.

"Of course she's not. She's far too good for you, Potter," Pansy shot snidely.

"_She_ certainly didn't seem to think so," Ron battled in his friend's place as Harry sighed and shook his head, moving to get up as Pansy and Ron started bickering in earnest.

"I think there are more gracious guests at this ball that might actually _enjoy_ my company. Please, excuse me," Harry said with a slightly mocking bow and shot Hermione a sly wink before gliding away from his table to the Minister's. He felt a little silly using his close relationship with Kingsley to draw Malfoy's attention, but once he began telling Shacklebolt about his work at the Ministry and his arguments with Fledgecraft, the fact that he'd originally come over here to garner some favor from his Slytherin rival was a distant memory.

It wasn't until he rejoined Hermione and Ron, now blessedly on their own as the tables were cleared out for dancing, that he remembered his mission. "Brilliant idea, Harry," Hermione chimed the moment he slipped into their midst. "He couldn't tear his eyes away from you the whole time."

"Really?" Harry asked, a little shocked even though he'd all but planned it that way.

"Really," Hermione replied, eyeing him curiously for a moment before taking a sip of her cocktail. Harry looked around for the bar and caught sight of a shock of blond hair and found himself suddenly quite parched.

"I'm going to get a drink before getting back to work," Harry whispered to his friends, nodding covertly in Draco's direction, which happily coincided to where the beverages were being served.

"Good call, mate," Ron said, patting Harry on the back. "Maybe if you're really pissed it won't hurt as much."

Harry turned up his nose in disgust and gave his friend a very rude gesture in reply. "It's nice to know you just assumed I'd bottom."

Ron only frowned. "I only say that because I can't imagine Malfoy bottoming for anyone," he snorted.

"Well, at least you've given it good thought," Harry pointed out with a wink as Ron absorbed the dig and grew a garish shade of red. He hurried off, leaving a cursing Ron and an amused Hermione in his wake.

With a purposeful stride, he walked right past Malfoy, ignoring the blond's stare and ordered a glass of wine from the bartender. He waited patiently, his back turned to the staring Slytherin until his drink was served and merely stood there, sipping on it slowly.

"Are you stalking me, Potter?" drawled a familiar voice behind him and Harry turned, feigning shock and shot Malfoy what he hoped to be a dazzling smile.

"Malfoy, what a surprise. I didn't see you standing there," he quipped, obviously lying.

The expected sneer was firmly planted on Malfoy's lips and Harry nearly smiled at the predictability of his opponent. Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad if he continued to look at things that way. This was just another competition that Harry needed to win against Malfoy. Nothing more. "What are you up to?" the blond asked suspiciously.

"Roughly the same as you, I'd imagine," Harry pointed out, tipping his glass of red liquid toward Draco's matching goblet. "Dancing, drinking, being merry."

"Are you?" Draco mused, his sneer melting in to a smirk. "Merry, that is?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, not catching the innuendo, if there even was one. "Merry enough…why? You here to spoil my evening?"

"Always," Draco whispered, stepping forward and a little too close for Harry's comfort. Suddenly 007 was gone and in his place was the jittery teenage boy who couldn't find a date to the Yule Ball. Bungle-0-7. Draco seemed to catch the scent of fear like a true predator and leaned even closer. "You should ask me to dance, or else you'll appear rude."

"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug. "Or maybe I'll just seem straight."

Draco snorted inelegantly and pursed his lips. "You would have seemed straighter if you'd brought She-Weasel and hadn't been chatting me up with a hard on for twenty minutes," Draco quipped.

Harry reflexively glanced down to see if he was in fact sporting an embarrassing erection he just hadn't noticed yet, which had clearly been what Draco had wanted based on his devious chuckle. "Still a prat, I see," Harry grumbled.

"Still a gullible Gryffindor, I see," Draco retorted, still grinning brightly. "And since you're clearly _not_ going to ask, let me. Potter, would you like to dance?" he asked, holding out his lithe hand, which Harry merely stared at for a long and terrible moment.

Scoff and throw his wine in Malfoy's face or take the offered hand and figure out a way to complete his mission?

In the end the choice was obvious, as much as Harry detested it. He took Malfoy's pale and elegant hand and allowed the man to lead him onto the dance floor where it seemed everyone parted like the Red Sea to allow them passage. He didn't wince when Malfoy's hand rested possessively on his hip as if it belonged there, and he didn't balk as the blond pressed indecently close and began to lead them into an intricate waltz, but inside his spirit was rebelling and he had to grit his teeth to keep from saying anything rude.

"So, what happened to me being 'up to something'?" he asked, reminding Draco of their tiny exchange at the club.

"I still think you're up to something, Potter, but that doesn't mean I can't play along for a bit," he chimed, clearly pleased with himself. "Besides, the look on your face right now is worth it."

Harry frowned , determined not to let Malfoy get the better of him as he swept them into movements that made Harry fight to concentrate on not stepping on Draco's dragon hide boots. Eventually the rhythm of their steps seeped into him and he slid his own hand downward, resting it at the small of Malfoy's back as he reveled in the soft, almost inaudible gasp the blond made in response.

"Do none of your friends know that you're gay?" Harry asked abruptly as his gaze caught Nott and Zabini on the sidelines, their expressions bathed in confusion. They obviously found it disturbing while clearly desperate to find a way to rationalize their friend's behavior. What amused Harry most was that Ron looked exactly the same.

"Who said I was?" Draco asked, spinning them around so that he could follow where Harry's gaze had lead. "Hm…that will take some work. Quick, tell me something humiliating about yourself, Potter. I'll need a good excuse to go back to my minions with." His lips quirked into a slight grin, but Harry couldn't quite tell if he was taking the piss or being serious.

"More humiliating than this, you mean?" Harry quipped, watching Malfoy's lips twitch downward.

"Am I such an embarrassing dancer that the Great Harry Potter cannot be seen with me?" he chastised, but Harry shook his head.

"You're a fine dancer, Malfoy, but you're still a prat," he clarified with a grin.

"And you're still just a celebrity wanker," Draco countered, smiling again, an expression Harry found himself growing fond of. "I'm not sure why I'm wasting my time with you."

"Why _are_ you?" Harry asked in all honesty.

"Because I want to," Draco replied after seeming to mull it over, leading their dance closer to the edge of the room and away from the rubber-necked onlookers. "I rarely do anything I don't want to these days, Potter. And if I want something badly enough, I _will_ take it." Harry swallowed thickly at the implications in Malfoy's tone, but the firm weight of the Slytherin's body against his own was lost in the next moment as the swell of music faded and changed to something new. "Thank you for the dance," he said formally, bowing at the waist. "You've been most gracious, Potter."

Harry blinked as Draco turned away, his mind reeling with possibilities. If he let him go now, Harry had no idea when he'd get another opportunity alone with him. With that thought in mind, he gripped Malfoy's wrist and hastily pulled him into a dark corner, away from the crowd. "Do you want _me_ badly enough?" Harry asked, his voice breathy and almost scared to hear Malfoy's answer.

Stepping forward, Draco pressed him into the wall, not touching, but so close Harry's skin practically screamed from the proximity. He could sense the hesitation in Malfoy's stance, even as it hummed desperately with something else, a fire, a hunger that Harry couldn't quite name. "Are you asking me to _take you_, Potter?" the Draco asked, his drawl like a velvet caress on Harry's neck.

"Take me home," Harry whispered in return, and it seemed Draco's answer was yes when he felt the telltale tug of Apparition from just behind his navel.

Author's Note: For your review, I shall shrink you into a fly so that you can buzz about Malfoy Manor and watch the next scene.


	6. It Begins

Author's Note: Thanks to Cris for looking this chapter over for me and thanks to all who have reviewed so far.

Chapter 6 It Begins

Malfoy Manor spun into view and Malfoy's body pressed closely against his own as the queasy feeling he often got after Apparition slowly faded. Before Harry even had time to catch his breath and regain his bearings, Malfoy's body was slammed against his, pushing him toward the stairs while Harry made a soft sound of protest.

"Drink," Harry managed to gasp out just before Malfoy's lips touched his own. "We should have a drink first. You interrupted mine, after all."

Draco blinked, looking slightly bewildered by the sudden change in mood, but seemed to take it in stride, always ready to play the part of perfect host. "Of course. How rude of me. What would you like?"

"Firewhiskey if you have it," he replied, following Draco into room with floor to ceiling windows, beautiful marble floors and elegantly tufted furniture. It was the first time he'd been to Malfoy Manor since he was brought here by the snatchers, and it was far brighter than he remembered, though the ever-looming presence of the Dark Lord had a way of making the sunniest room seem basked in shadows.

"Of course I have Firewhiskey," Draco huffed, gesturing for Harry to have a seat as he glided over to the well-stocked bar in the corner, pouring two glasses of amber liquid. There were two high-backed chairs and one curling chaise lounge to choose from, and while Harry was tempted to take one of the chairs, he knew he had to get close enough to douse the blond, before things went too far, and took the chaise instead. He watched anxiously as Malfoy poured their drinks, stopping briefly to swat at a pesky fly and then diligently resumed his task. While Draco was occupied with their drinks, Harry feigned an itch, bending down to slip one of the vials Hermione had planted on him from the hiding place around his ankle. He palmed it moments before Draco padded over and took the seat beside him, and graciously took the offered drink with his free hand.

They stared at each other across the small expanse for a long moment while Draco sipped his drink and Harry practically gulped his. "Nervous, Potter?" Draco drawled, his voice low and seductive with a hint of amusement.

Harry only spared a single narrowed glare for his rival before shrugging slightly. "Not for any reason_ you_ might be suggesting," he replied at last.

He momentarily enjoyed the look of surprise on those haughty features before Draco's grey eyes shut down and gave nothing but indifference. "Well, I promise to take very good care of you," he offered, smirking deeply.

Harry forced himself to return a smug grin of his own and shift forward, hovering in Draco's space and stealing a hitched breath from the blond. Drawing the Slytherin's attention to his eyes, Harry quickly tipped the contents of his vial into Malfoy's glass. "I wouldn't be here if I thought otherwise," he whispered hotly along the shell of Draco's ear before backing away and taking another sip of his drink.

Trying at inconspicuous, he averted his gaze as Draco brought the glass to his lips, taking a deep sip of his drink and imbibing more than enough of the sleeping draught to send a pulse of mild relief through Harry. Feeling slightly emboldened, Harry moved to straddle Draco's lap, relishing the tiny noises the action pulled from the blond's lips before he leaned in, his mouth hovering mere inches above Draco's. Harry could feel the Slytherin's hot breath mingling with his own and it gave him a rush he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.

But before his mind could commit to an act of cheating on his own morals and his well-meaning girlfriend waiting back at home, the breath ghosting across Harry's lips shifted into a deeper, more even huff. He opened his eyes to see Draco's were closed, lightly fluttering in his sleeping state. "Sorry," Harry muttered as he removed himself from the blond's lap. "You're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning."

Potion induced sleeps tended to do that, especially with the amount Harry had drugged him with. He transfigured his blazer into a soft cashmere blanket and draped it over the sleeping figure, marveling at how angelic the manipulative prat looked in his sleep.

With a light scoff he pushed the thought from his mind and began moving methodically around the manor, starting in the room they were in and slowly working outward, checking every wall for a hidden latch or cubby and every painting or tapestry to make certain no safe was tucked away behind it. He found plenty of hidey holes, but when he slipped through the wards and broke the carefully constructed locking spells, all he found were financial documents, family heirlooms and various stashes of money or trinkets - nothing of any value to a case against Malfoy and nothing containing any detectable dark spells or curses of any kind.

"Fuck," Harry grumbled as dawn crested over the landscape and filtered in through the windows. Running a dusty hand through his even dustier mane, Harry had no choice but to pack it in. Six hours of searching had yielded him little more than an ache in his back and a yawn that seemed to stretch out for days. He knew that a report showing Malfoy was squeaky clean wouldn't appease his boss, and he certainly didn't relish the idea of having to continue this twisted game with his old rival.

He would just have to put his foot down and demand to be reassigned. What was the worst Fledgecraft could do?

Wincing at the images filling his head of even worse assignments than seducing Malfoy (though, admittedly, not much worse), he triple-checked his steps, making sure everything he'd riffled through looked completely undisturbed, returning every ward to its original state before leaving the manor, only a small glance spared for the blond sleeping peacefully on the settee.

* * *

><p>"Unacceptable!"<p>

The outburst nearly rattled the windows as Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other in turn, barely able to restrain the need to roll their eyes. As expected, Fledgecraft was less than pleased by Harry's assessment that Malfoy appeared to be an upstanding citizen of the Wizarding community.

"I certainly can't _make_ him do anything illegal," Harry pointed out in as level a tone as he was capable of when being shouted at.

"You don't have to make him. The man practically exudes evil. There has to be something he's hiding but you're just too incompetent to find it!" his boss seethed, his fat fist pounding the table between them.

Harry stood, cheeks turning crimson with anger, and rounded on his superior. "Incompetent? I've done nothing but bend over backwards to complete this mission for you, breaking my own moral integrity in the process and you want to call _me_ incompetent, you f-"

Standing abruptly and shoving ahead of Harry, Hermione stopped her friend before he could finish whatever demeaning diatribe he'd begun and interjected. "I believe what Harry means to say is that he's reasonably satisfied the terms of the assignment and has found nothing for which charges can be pressed. It would be a breach of ethics to continue on this route, Sir. If you still believe Malfoy to be guilty of something, we should find other means to pursue that information," she added, eloquent as always.

Fledgecraft eyed her with obvious distaste before sinking back in his chair and looking thoughtful. Harry relaxed a bit and eventually resumed his seat between his friends, which seemed to be exactly what their boss had been waiting for. "First," he hissed in a malevolent tone, "you will not dictate orders to me. _I _will decide when an assignment has been fulfilled properly. Second, although brash and inappropriate, Miss Granger makes a good point.

Before Hermione could finish preening, Fledgecraft pushed forward, leveling Harry with a dark gaze. "This assignment needs to go in a new direction."

"Excellent, so it's settled then, the Malfoy case can be reassessed and given over to a new team," Hermione reasoned, beaming at Harry as if she'd saved his life.

"Oh no, that's not what I meant at all, Miss Granger. Potter will stay on the Malfoy case, only instead of creating convenient methods to search the manor, he'll need to go deeper. Start a relationship with Malfoy, make the sneak trust him until he spills all of his secrets," Fledgecraft purred, as if eating a a decadent slice of homemade pie. "Potter will ruin him so thoroughly he won't know what hit him," he plotted deviously.

"Absolutely not!" Harry was on his feet again, shouting and shaking his head furiously. "I don't care about your approval any longer. I'm off this fucking case. I'll take it up with Shacklebolt if I have to!"

"Oh yes, always running off to your precious Minister. If the man is so deep in your pocket, Potter, why don't you have my job yet?" Fledgecraft hissed, standing to meet Harry's gaze.

With narrowed eyes, Harry nearly ground out the words. "Watch your tongue, Fledgecraft or you just might regret those words."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Potter," his boss growled, amusement in his beady eyes.

"Harry doesn't have to make threats," Ron piped in, rising to stand beside his best mate. Hermione cursed softly under her breath before standing as well, though her lips kept a tight line, not uttering a word.

"Is it a coup then?" Fledgecraft murmured delightfully. "Oh how the Ministry officials would love to catch wind of that. Golden Trio attempts to overthrow Auror Department. Skeeter would have a field day."

Harry only faltered for a moment, his eyes still narrowed to slits. "No, it's pretty clear that the Ministry has no room for change. It's too busy choking on greedy bastards like you," Harry bit out through clenched teeth, his heart feeling hollow at the idea.

"All this over a Malfoy?" Fledgecraft spat, shaking his head. "I'm astounded at the lot of you. I thought you wanted to be Aurors!" he declared, pushing on before they even had time to answer. "Well, sometimes that means being thrust into uncomfortable situations. Would you put up the same stink in the field under wandfire? That's a hundred times more dangerous than what I'm asking. Do you want to be Aurors or not?"

"Not if it means blindly following a man with an obvious vendetta. I didn't follow Voldemort and I won't follow _you_," Harry ground out. "I quit."

"Me too!" Ron shouted, blinking after a moment as if he hadn't realized what he'd said.

"And me as well," Hermione added firmly, chin raised high.

Together the trio stalked from Fledgecraft's office, filing one after the other with Harry in the lead. As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, the entire office was buzzing. "Bloody hell, Harry. I didn't know you were going to quit."

"Didn't you?" Hermione chimed in. "I could see that move from a mile away and it was stupid, Harry. Very stupid."

Harry and Ron both rounded on her. "Stupid?"

With a strained sigh, Hermione shook her head. "I'm surprised at you both, really," she huffed in the way that made everyone around her feel tiny and ignorant, like she was telling a brilliant joke that they just couldn't grasp the meaning of. "For purported Wizard's Chess Champions you let that man play you like a pawn. Couldn't either of you see that this was what he wanted?"

"Then why did you go along with it?" Ron pointed out indignantly, as if he'd spotted some obvious flaw in her plan.

"I couldn't very well leave the two of you dangling out there like idiots, could I? We're a team," she huffed and turned toward their cubicles. "Now, we need to go to Shacklebolt, explain everything and get our jobs back."

"No," Harry growled. "I will not answer to that man anymore. He's an arse and he doesn't deserve the position he's in."

"Of course he doesn't, Harry, but sometimes being an adult means taking orders from other people, even if you don't agree with those orders," she pointed out.

"Just drop it. I'll arrange a meeting with Shacklebolt for you two if you want, but I'm not coming back. I'm done," he grumbled, packing his personal effects into a conjured box.

"We can schedule our own meeting, Harry, thank you very much," Hermione huffed in the way she always did when someone was being obstinate. And as usual, that someone was Harry.

"Fine," Harry bit out, rolling his eyes. "I guess I'll see you both around then."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Of course you will, you great prat."

Harry opened his mouth to tell her off but could only laugh in response. "Yeah, alright." With another nod of his head, Harry hefted the box to his hip and stalked from the Ministry offices, ignoring the chattering voices that followed after him.

Draco woke with a terrible headache, his vision spinning as he tried to blink away the foggy haze that coated his vision. He groaned and shifted, nearly falling off the sofa as he did. "What the f-" he croaked, feeling parched as he took in the blanket tucked tenderly around him and the empty Firewhiskey bottle on the coffee table.

He hadn't remembered drinking so much, but as he tried to extract as many memories as he could from the night before, his head pounded ruthlessly in their wake. Gods. He'd gotten Potter back to his place and they'd flirted madly before…before what?

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he rasped, prying himself up and hobbling toward the kitchen where he kept the remedial potions. "I get Potter within my grasp and then blow it by drinking too much?" That wasn't like him at all and for a moment he held out hope that Potter just wasn't a very memorable lay, but the state of his immaculately dressed body was a clear enough sign that nothing happened between them last night.

Shaking from the nausea that came with drinking the hangover potions, Draco let out a relieved sigh when it began to work and the only thing that remained was the deep, coiling need to see Potter again. Feel him. Taste him.

He knew he was being reckless as he put quill to parchment, intending to send the Gryffindor idiot a personal invitation to his home. Such an invitation could easily be sold to the media, tearing his carefully constructed lies apart and eventually reason won out. He would leave it be and if fate put Harry Potter in his path once more, Draco would seize the opportunity with both fists.

* * *

><p>'HARRY POTTER FIRED FROM MINISTRY'<p>

Harry's angrily shaking grip on his tea cup sent splatters of dark liquid to mar the surface of the paper. Below his own article, a photo of an elderly woman opening the third location of her small bakery glared balefully up at Harry as she wiped the tea droplets from her blouse and then the photo went back to playing the same loop of her waving and cutting the ceremonial ribbon. "I wasn't fired," Harry seethed.

"No. You weren't," Ginny chimed bitterly from the other side of the breakfast table, unabashedly flipping through a bridal magazine. "You quit," she huffed, sounding very put out over it.

Harry let the paper droop so he could see her, shifting his irritation to a new target. "I would have thought that you of all people would be happy. You hated all the long hours I put in at the office," he pointed out.

"Yes, I did," she huffed, finally looking up at him, "but that doesn't mean I want you lying around the house like an unemployed bum instead."

Glowering, Harry tried to ignore her words, but he had to admit he'd been extraordinarily lazy these past few days. His hand reached up to scruff along a shade of chin stubble and he was still in his night clothes at half past ten. On the other hand, Ginny moving in had been more exhausting than a long shift at the office. Her things were everywhere and she was an insistent buzzing in his ear throughout the day. Harry would try reading long-neglected books and she would interrupt, asking where she could put this or that. When Harry set everything aside and tried to help, she would snap at him that he was folding things wrong or that the books needed to be assembled by color or that…honestly he tuned out all of her complaints after awhile.

"What would you have me do?" he asked with a plaintive sigh. "Crawl back on hands and knees, begging for my job back? I don't even want to work there if those are the kinds of things expect of me."

Ginny took a dainty bite of her grapefruit and shook her head. "You know you wouldn't have to beg. If you took just _one_ of Kingsley's Floo calls you'd probably find he's ready to beg _you_ to come back."

"Maybe," Harry huffed. "But I've made my decision."

"Fine," Ginny huffed in return. "Well, if you're going to be free today, could you pop in Diagon Alley and pick me up a few things?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, actually relieved with the request. It would be nice to get out of Grimmauld Place for awhile and away from the mess his once clutter-free home had become. Maybe when he got back Ginny would be more settled in and things would get back to some semblance of normalcy. Ron and Hermione were supposed to come over for dinner and he really didn't want the house to be a wreck when they got there.

"Thank you, sweetie. The list is on the fridge," she informed him, beaming as she nipped forward to kiss him chastely on the cheek before turning back to her magazine. Harry blinked at the return of her usually sweet demeanor, pulled himself away from the table and trudged upstairs to shower and dress for the day.

Author's Note: So, not too many of you wanted to be a fly, and I can't say that I blame you...so how about this time I offer you a giant boot with which to kick Ginny out of the house with...oh wait...can't do that...yet *evil cackle of evil doom*


	7. A Toast to Beautifying Potions

Author's Note: A bundle of thanks to Cris for looking this chapter over for me and to all who reviewed the latest chapter.

Chapter 7 A Toast to Beautifying Potions

Harry groaned at the long list of items he'd been sent to fetch for Ginny. A few Quidditch tools, a book she'd wanted to read, all of which were fine, but then there were also a slew of beauty products she'd asked him to retrieve from Madam Primpernelle's. Not only would he prefer not to wander around Diagon Alley with the frilly bags he imagined accompanied the items sold there, but there were hardly any details on the list she'd left him. He worried about picking the wrong potions and facing her wrath when he returned home.

After procrastinating as long as he could, Harry slipped covertly into the glaring fuchsia building at the end of the street. The interior was overly feminine to an obnoxious degree, decked out in pink frills and sparkling surfaces making Harry want to squint as if faced with a too bright sun. He looked like an ink stain with his dark hair and dark robes surrounded by so much girly cheerfulness. Madam Primpernelle herself was as exuberant as he expected, her face made up like a very glamorous prostitute in garish blues and reds with her hair teased into a large brittle updo so that it wouldn't block out a single inch of her Pepto Bismol colored robes.

"Doesn't she look like she's ready to attend a drag queen's wedding?" a familiar voice drawled behind him as Madam Primpernelle bustled around the aisles grabbing up colorful bottles and placing them in a basket for Harry.

Only barely did Harry hold back a snort at Malfoy's joke, even as his cheeks flamed at being caught in this place by him of all people. "I was thinking clown school formal, but I think yours might be just as accurate."

Draco laughed, a low, enchanting sound that might have been seductive if Harry had thought on it too long. He was too distracted by the realization that he'd never heard a genuine laugh from the Slytherin Prince before this moment. "No, I definitely think yours is spot on, Potter. Good call."

And a compliment, unforced, from the blond's lips? This was obviously a day of firsts. Then he remembered all over again where he was, what he was doing and whom he was talking to. "So…what brings you to this…interesting establishment?"

A slow smirk formed on Draco's lips and Harry felt slightly more comfortable at the sight. This expression was a familiar one - one that didn't give him the strange nervous flutter that he'd been experiencing recently in Malfoy's company. "I was stalking _you_, of course."

Nope. There is was again. "You were?" Harry asked, blinking back surprise that faded quickly at Malfoy's snarky laugh.

"No, of course not. I have better things to do than chase after a bloke who got me drunk and _didn't_ take advantage of me," he quipped, humor and bitterness laced together in his voice.

"Right." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to say on that particular matter. He had a notion to come clean about the whole thing, but then Malfoy would know he was the target of a Ministry investigation and even though Harry no longer worked for the department, he still felt an obligation not to interfere. "Sorry for leaving like that, but you were out cold and I got rather bored," he lied instead.

His breath caught in his throat as a flush stole over Malfoy's cheeks. "Honestly, I should probably apologize," he said, as Harry noticed with a grin that an apology was implied but not _actually_ given. "I really didn't think I'd had that much to drink. I'm not sure yet whether or not I'm lucky that you were a perfect gentleman."

Harry turned away as he fidgeted under the scrutiny of Malfoy's heated gaze. What was wrong with him? He was a trained Auror for fuck's sake…former Auror at least. He could withstand interrogation under Veritaserum without squirming as much as he was doing just now. "Well, we Gryffindors are like that," he muttered at last, turning to meet Draco's mercurial gaze, sparkling with a hidden mirth.

"I see," he said, stepping closer. "I do believe you owe me another date though, since I slept through the first one."

Harry swallowed thickly but held his ground. "I don't think taking me home for a shag could exactly be construed as a _date_, Malfoy," Harry pointed out.

Malfoy shrugged in that elegant way he had of doing. "I suppose it depends on your definition of _date_. I consider a date to be time spent together, your heart rate spiking, and leaves you swooning on the doorstep. I think a brilliant shag would do the trick perfectly."

Harry licked his lips, feeling his own heart race at Draco's words. "Really? Because I consider it a way to get to know someone better, share secrets and memories and…leaves you swooning on the doorstep," he finished with a cheeky grin.

"All of those things could still be accomplished in bed," Draco pointed out.

"Perhaps," Harry replied noncommittally as he failingly attempted to appear both suave and aloof, to what purpose he had no idea.

Draco leaned ever closer, pressing Harry back to the glass cabinet behind him. Green eyes fluttered closed against the intense look on Malfoy's face and Harry wet his lips, bracing for the kiss he expected the blond to plant on his mouth at such close proximity, but instead the weight was lifted from his chest as Malfoy pulled back. "This," he chimed, looking thoroughly amused, "was what I came in for," he said, tipping a spherical bottle onto his thumb before dabbing a clear liquid beneath his ear. "This cologne is unrivaled."

Harry caught himself before he pressed forward to catch the scent, but Draco closed the distance, cocking his head to the side and exposing a long line of porcelain skin that practically beckoned to be licked. He murmured something unintelligible about how nice the cologne smelled, and he was fairly certain he was losing his mind. He quietly reasoned that the cologne was probably some kind of aphrodisiac that Harry had no power to compete with.

"Have dinner with me Saturday," Draco whispered against his ear, and Harry found himself without the will to refuse. He nodded, which seemed good enough for the blond, who fell back in the next moment. The movement allowed Harry to breath and his mind to spin in an epic 'what the fuck' kind of fashion. "Excellent. I'll pick you up at your place at eight."

What was he doing? Harry wasn't on this case anymore. He wasn't even an_ Auror_ any longer. What the hell made him agree to a real date with the prince of all prats? But before he could retract his agreement, Madam Primpernelle came swishing back with Harry's list checked off and a hefty bill in hand. Hastily he paid for the items, worrying his lip when he saw the interested expression on Malfoy's face. He was no doubt wondering what Harry needed with 'Ginger Brilliance Tonic', 'Fairly Fair Skin Serum' and 'Bust Bazoom Cream' among other things that were decidedly more destructive to his image.

"I'm sure Ginny will love the new hand cream we got in this week, so I threw in a sample for her," Madam Primpernelle chimed as she handed everything over to Harry.

"Um, yeah. I'm sure she will," Harry spluttered, unable to meet Malfoy's perplexed gaze. Why did he feel as though he were doing something wrong by _Draco_? Because he was an arse, that's why. He was obviously still so hung up on the case that he felt the need to finish it even though he wasn't contractually responsible to.

Deep down he knew he should have turned around, explained the whole mess to Draco, and run out the door, but instead he only did the latter. With a tight, blushing smile aimed at Malfoy and a harried goodbye to Madam Primpernelle, Harry rushed out of the shop as if someone had set his trousers on fire.

* * *

><p>The remainder of Harry's day had been surprisingly quiet after he dropped Ginny's things at the house and found it blessedly empty. Trouble was, it was<em> too<em> quiet. Of all the days he absolutely didn't want a moment alone to think, cruel fate had to go and give him just that. It was several hours when Ginny got home with an armful of groceries and another box from her mum's levitating behind her, but by then Harry had already taken out the rubbish, done all the dishes _and_ the laundry, tidied his study and dusted _everything_, which in Grimmauld Place was saying quite a bit.

"Wow," Ginny beamed upon seeing the table set with their nicest china and the house virtually spotless. Even the frame around Walburga Black's portrait had been given a good polish. "Someone's been quite busy. Well done, Harry. I can't remember the last time I've seen this place looking so lovely."

"Yes, well, I was a tad bored," Harry admitted, saying nothing of the need to distract himself after his surprise run-in with Malfoy earlier that day. "Besides, Mi and Ron are coming over for dinner. Thought the place should look presentable."

"Brilliant," Ginny replied enthusiastically as Harry helped her with the groceries, levitating them into their proper places in the cupboards. "We'll need to make another setting though," she piped in while arranging the perishables in the fridge. "Mum's coming too."

Harry blinked. "Molly's coming here? Tonight? For dinner?"

Never once in all his years here at Grimmauld Place had Harry ever cooked for Molly. He had to admit he was quite terrified of the prospect. Harry wasn't a bad cook, but Molly prepared delicious and elaborate feasts for the smallest of occasions and all he'd prepared was a roast chicken and some veggies that didn't feel nearly fancy enough for Molly Weasley.

"Yeah." Ginny turned, catching the distress in Harry's voice. "Dad's working late, and I didn't want her eating alone. I figured it was alright to invite my own mum to my own house," she pointed out unnecessarily.

"Yes, no, I mean, of course it is. It's just…I hadn't planned on making a big thing of tonight, and now there's all this pressure to cook something fantastic…and the chicken won't feed much more than us…." His voice trailed off as Ginny sighed in exasperation.

"Harry, I just went to the market. We have plenty of food here, and mum will be happy with whatever you fix," she said, handing him a whisk and grinning. "It's cute that you're worried about it though," she chimed, standing on tip-toes to kiss him on the nose and paused for a moment. "Don't you smell nice? New cologne?"

Bristling slightly, Harry shook his head. "Er…not exactly. I was accosted at Primpernelle's," he replied honestly. Mostly.

Ginny cringed and looked sympathetic. "Sorry. I probably should have warned you that she can be a tad overbearing with the sampling. I hope she wasn't too much of a bother," she offered with a small grin. Harry shook his head and her smile widened as she moved out of his way. "I suppose I'll put out the other setting and leave you to it."

Harry tried to feel disgruntled about Ginny leaving him alone to do all the cooking, but if there was one thing he learned early on in his courtship of the redhead, it was that Ginny Weasley had not inherited the smallest iota of her mother's talent in the kitchen. She was a terror to food, managing to burn things that Harry didn't think could be burned, to speak nothing of her tendency to over-salt everything to the point of needing several glasses of water per bite to wash it down.

He tried teaching her, but she would get so frustrated that it was just easier to do it himself. The only thing she could manage was eggs and toast, which is what he assumed she lived off of when he wasn't around.

In the end, he was mostly thankful for the task, because it kept his mind off of sparkling grey eyes and haunting cologne that still seemed to cling to his shirt.

* * *

><p>"Harry!" cooed Molly the moment she walked in the door, enfolding him in a smothering hug. "Don't you look as handsome as ever! And Ginny! You two make the loveliest couple! You're going to have the most beautiful children!"<p>

Trying desperately not to squirm in place, Harry offered Molly a tight, shy smile. He should be used to this by now. It was practically the same speech over and over whenever he saw her. Normally it didn't get to him, but since Ginny had moved in, the threat of marriage and children seemed to loom over him like a dull guillotine blade, meant to strike several times before it finally put him out of his misery.

It was peculiar, because he couldn't remember ever feeling so full of dread at the thought of starting a family, quite the contrary. Before the war, it was that thought that spurred him on; the idea that one day he would have a normal life, but he was swiftly beginning to question his definition of normal.

"Of course we will," Ginny answered easily, as she always did, and escorted her mother into the dining room where Ron and Hermione were already sitting. Ron stood, still chewing a bite of roll when his mother came in and he pulled out a chair for her.

Harry cursed himself for not thinking of that, but he was still lingering back, afraid to do something wrong. This was the first time he'd seen Molly since he'd asked Ginny to move in. Part of him wanted to make sure Molly didn't retract her blessing of their relationship, even though he knew deep down that such a thing was likely impossible. However, that part warred with another side of him that just wanted to make sure she didn't put any more ideas in Ginny's head. He'd almost expected her to add 'engagement ring' to the list of things he was meant to pick up in Diagon Alley that morning, what with the way she'd been dropping not-so-subtle hints lately.

He finally allowed himself to relax when the conversation turned from nuptials and children to the food and then to work. Work was a safe topic. Or so he thought.

Through a mouthful of green beans, Ron began regaling the tale of their meeting with Kingsley. As Harry had suggested, the two tried to get back into the department without him, and had succeeded. Mostly. "There was only one condition," Ron informed him, scooping up another bite of potatoes.

Hermione glared at him with poorly veiled exasperation and set her own fork aside, leveling her gaze on Harry. "The condition was that you come back as well."

"But I don't want to come back," Harry stated, as if perhaps they'd forgotten and would move on now that he'd reminded them.

Hermione only rolled her eyes. "Of course you do, Harry. Look at this place." She gestured to the spic-n-span surfaces all over the room. "You're obviously bored out of your skull."

"Even if that's true," Harry argued lightly, refusing to admit the real reason why he'd had such a cleaning streak today, "that doesn't mean I want to go to work for that prick again."

"Harry!" chastised Molly, and Harry flushed, ducking his head.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," he muttered like a scolded child before glaring at Hermione as if it were her fault he was using inappropriate language at the dinner table. "But the point still stands. I won't go back to work for that man."

"Not even if Kingsley allows you to head the investigation from this point forward?" Hermione asked, her lip quirking into a knowing smile.

"Fledgecraft's been booted off the case," Ron piped in, ruining the subtle tension Hermione had been building. "You should have seen his face when Kingsley told him. It was priceless."

"He's seriously been taken off the Malfoy case?" Harry asked, suddenly more intrigued than he had any right to be.

Hermione nodded, her grin growing broader.

"Fine," Harry sighed in defeat. That was honestly the only thing standing between him and the job he loved. Plus this way he would have the leniency to prove a case for or against Malfoy on his own terms. As much as he hated the teenage Malfoy, he was beginning to realize that everyone changed as they got older and the sins of the past couldn't be held against the man Malfoy was now. If he was innocent, Harry would see to it that no one bothered Malfoy again. If he was guilty, well, Harry would have to treat him the same as any other criminal, and he tried to ignore the sick twist that idea did to his gut. "I'll set up a meeting with Kingsley tomorrow."

"Now that that's all settled," Ginny huffed, moving to stand. "Harry and I have an announcement."

"We do?" Harry asked, looking up with a confused frown.

"We're moving in together," she added in the next beat, as if Harry hadn't said a thing.

"Um…we know," Ron said, rolling his eyes at his little sister. "Harry told us a few days ago."

That earned Harry a bitter glare, but eventually Ginny sagged into her seat and muttered something into her glass before raising it up. "A toast," she said, clinking the edge of her glass with her fork. "To the future and all the glorious things it will bring!"

"To the future," the lot of them chimed in unison, some more enthusiastic than others.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: A toast to hot Drarry action in the near future *clink*<p> 


	8. Falling Apart

Author's Note: Thanks again to all who reviewed and to Cris for looking this chapter over for me.

Chapter 8 Falling Apart

"Minister Shacklebolt," Harry greeted formally, despite being told many times not to bother with formalities. As he stepped into the opulent Ministry office, his gaze lingered on the many portraits of past Ministers, a handful of the frames empty from the Ministers that were merely retired, not deceased. He'd only been in this office a handful of times despite his close relationship with the Minister, but he supposed that was still more than most Ministry employees could boast.

"Harry," Kingsley sighed, shaking his head. Harry could almost hear the words 'please, call me Kingsley' on his lips, but he didn't use them this time. Instead, he shot Harry a wry grin and gestured toward the chair across from his desk, as if there were several options for where to sit. "I assume Ron and Hermione got to you."

That was one of the things he enjoyed most about his friendship with Kingsley. There was no need for preamble, both men just got to the point and then moved onto more pleasant things. "You could say that," he muttered. "Is it true that Fledgecraft is off the Malfoy case?"

"Is it true that you think he's innocent?" Kingsley countered, and Harry did his best not to fidget under the Minister's scrutinizing gaze.

"Innocent is a strong word, Sir. Everyone is guilty of something, after all," he reasoned. "I'm just not sure Malfoy is as guilty as Fledgecraft's vendetta paints him."

Kingsley steepled his fingers and leaned back, regarding Harry for a long moment before nodding his approval. "You're keen, Harry. Even Hermione didn't pick up on that."

Not wanting to lose face, but not exactly understanding the Minister's words, Harry only cocked his head to the side, hoping Kingsley would elaborate. "Sir?"

"On the vendetta," he said at last. "Fledgecraft's wife was a casualty of Voldemort's war."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I think I heard something about that, but there were a lot of casualties and it was rare anyone sought vengeance against any one person. Especially given the fact that Malfoy was only a teenager through most of it."

"As were you, Harry, but still you managed to save the world."

The words hung in the air between them, and Harry could no longer resist the urge to fidget. He knew that Kingsley had a point, but who was he to demand everyone make the same decisions he did in the war. "I didn't have a family to protect. In some ways my parents being dead made it easier to do what I did."

A slow, careful smile crept across Kingsley's features and he nodded. "Fledgecraft's wife was an Unspeakable, in fact, she was the woman who cataloged your prophecy when it arrived," he explained, and Harry could only blink and wait for the Minister to continue. "She was captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor where she was tortured and killed."

"Fuck," Harry breathed, none too lightly. "No wonder he hates me so much." She was killed for information about Harry, about the prophecy. His prophecy. If not for him, she'd probably be in the bowels of the Ministry cataloging more usual magical artifacts as they spoke.

With an irritated huff, Kingsley shook his head. "The placement of grief rarely makes sense, Harry. Regardless of his reasoning, Fledgecraft has treated you unfairly."

Harry shrugged it off. Now that there was a reason behind it, something tangible he could think back to, Harry thought it might be easier to cope with. Maybe they could even reach a tenuous understanding over a pint and a cigar. "So he blames Malfoy because, what? It was his house?"

"It was by his hand that she was tortured, and by his father's she was killed," Kingsley breathed.

"Oh."

There wasn't much more Harry could think to say. So many people had done so many out of character things during the war, and though it wasn't completely out of character for Lucius, he was safely locked away in Azkaban. For some irritating reason, Harry couldn't imagine Draco having taken any pleasure in torturing anyone, but he couldn't prove it. And he couldn't change it. What he could do is work to find out which Draco Malfoy was the real one. Was he like his father? A Death Eater to the core, or was he just a man who had lived through a great tragedy and only wanted a normal life.

Like Harry.

He shook off the thought and straightened his shoulder. "Well, Sir, I appreciate the insight. I think that will make my job much easier. I'd like to return to my position here at the Ministry, that is, if you'll have me."

Kingsley stood, offered his hand to Harry and nodded. "Let's just forget you ever left, shall we?"

Harry offered him a wry grin and nodded. "Fair enough. Thank you, Sir." The grip on Harry's hand didn't wane at all as he stared, starting to feel uncomfortable. "Sir?"

"I need you to promise me, Harry," the man whispered, more intense than Harry had seen him since the war. "Promise me you won't use this trouble with Fledgecraft to convince yourself that Draco Malfoy is an innocent man. There are plenty of trails that Ministry have followed and all of them have ended with a perfectly dead end."

"Maybe that just means he hasn't done anything illegal," Harry pointed out, aware that he was mostly trying to convince himself even though he didn't know why.

"When I say dead end, I mean just that, Harry. The investigations just stuttered to a close for some reason or another. Not because they met a natural ending that one might have when the leads turn up useless rubbish, but it was as if our investigations were purposely severed," he explained, letting the words and their implications sink in before moving on. "If Malfoy is up to something and has even the slightest inkling that you're on to him, you could be in danger."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling suddenly numb. What if Malfoy was playing along because he knew Harry wasn't genuine? What if the sneaky Slytherin was setting him up for humiliation, or worse, plotting to strike when he was good and distracted? Giving Kingsley a suitably wary smile, Harry finally felt his hand freed of the Minister's strong grip. "I'll be careful," he assured Shacklebolt and himself both.

"See that you do, Harry," the man intoned before inclining his head, letting Harry know he was dismissed.

* * *

><p>"Well, Boss," Ron chimed, grinning like a happy Crup. "What should we do first? Play a game of Wizard's Chess? Put spiders in that tosser Morrison's office?" He seemed to catch Hermione's glare and shrugged, probably used to it by now. "What? He deserves it after spreading around the office that Harry…you know."<p>

Harry cocked a brow and looked up from the paperwork he was using to studiously ignore Ron's childishness up until this point. "What lie did Morrison spread around the office?"

Looking uncomfortable, Ron glanced to Hermione, who shrugged much the same way he had a moment before. "You wanted to run your mouth, now you can explain it all to Harry," she challenged curtly.

With a heavy sigh, Ron fidgeted, seemingly unable to meet his friend's gaze. "Well, he was sort of telling people that you asked Malfoy to fuck you. That you'd begged Fledgecraft for the case…."

Harry tried not to show any emotion whatsoever at Ron's admission. He was used to being the target of the rumor mill, but this one bothered him more than it should. "Well, thankfully I think everyone in the office will realize that's ridiculous tripe," he pointed out, hoping what he said aloud sounded more mature than the diatribe that was scrolling through his head, listing all the vengeful things he could do to Morrison in return for his big mouth.

"I'm sure no one believed him, Harry," Hermione assured. "It was petty and unwarranted."

"He's just mad that you were chosen to be on the leading Auror team over him," Ron added, trying to smooth it all over. "Jealous twat."

"Look," Harry began, shifting slightly in his seat as he imagined people outside the conference room gossiping about the state of his virgin arsehole, "can we please just move on? What's the plan for settling this Malfoy case once and for all? The sooner I put it all behind me, the better."

"Well, we're clearly not using the same tactics as before," Hermione stated with an obvious air. "That was cruel and unusual punishment to say the least."

Harry shifted again, frowning. "It was…but…maybe Fledgecraft had a point. I mean, I'm certainly not going to sleep with him or anything, but maybe if he and I became friends…maybe I could get to the bottom of this whole thing a bit quicker."

"Harry, you're not serious?" Hermione huffed, eyes narrowing. "It was this very point that drove you to quit, and now you're _agreeing_ with Fledgecraft?"

Letting out a sigh at Hermione's lecture and Ron's gaping look, he shook his head mildly. "I'm not agreeing with him exactly," Harry protested. "I'm just saying that his method was rooted in something that may potentially work. Plus…I sort of have a date with him," he rushed, the words smooshing together in a nearly unintelligible string.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, the look on her face saying clearly that she hoped she misunderstood.

"What the hell does that mean?" Ron demanded much less eloquently.

Harry fought back a blush and stood, pacing around the room so that he didn't have to look at his confused friends. "I ran into him earlier this week," he began.

"You mean earlier this week when you weren't an Auror," Hermione cut in, scrutinizing him closely.

"Not technically an Auror. No," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair and giving a soft huff. "It just sort of happened. I was out running errands for Ginny and-"

"Your girlfriend Ginny," Hermione pointed out, butting in again with a mild glare.

Gritting his teeth, Harry took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly before continuing. "He asked. I said yes. It's not a big deal. I knew that it could be useful even though I wasn't an Auror any longer."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Ron quieted her with a hand on her arm. "Leave it to our Harry to be thinking like an Auror even after he quit," Ron chimed good-naturedly and to Harry massive relief. "Now we have a starting point at least. It should be easy enough to explain that it was all a big misunderstanding and that you're not really bent. Who knows, maybe he'll be fine and you can start building on that friendship thing you mentioned," he added rather awkwardly.

"No. That's ridiculous," Hermione scoffed, leveling her gaze on Harry as she directed her tirade at her fiancé. "If he does that, he'll lose all credibility. Everything we've worked for to this point will be moot. There is no way in hell Malfoy will be_ okay _with Harry jerking him around like that. It's not like it was some inadvertent misunderstanding," she reasoned.

"So what do you suggest?" Ron demanded, looking irritated.

"Harry either has to stick to the original plan or take an entirely different route. We can figure out a way to infiltrate his finances, bring him down for questioning under Veritaserum, send in a team to raid his properties." All good options, but Harry couldn't restrain a grimace.

"Those are all things you do when there is already a shred of proof that the target is guilty. All we have to go on is a grudge by our former superior," Harry pointed out. "Is that enough to burst in wands blazing?"

"Don't you want to put him away, Harry?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"Yes...no...I mean, I want him put away if that's what he deserves, but you can't sentence someone to Azkaban because they're a bit of a prick," Harry sighed.

"A _bit_ of a prick?" Ron countered, ginger brow quirked.

"Okay, fine. He's much more than that, but you can't lock someone away for anything we _know_ Malfoy has done. Unless we find more concrete proof that he's the criminal Fledgecraft has made him out to be, I'm not comfortable treating him as such. It's innocent until proven guilty, not 'cover your bits because we're coming after you no matter what'."

His eyes met Hermione's and Harry watched a mixture of emotions flitter over her face. He knew he caught annoyance, but he also thought he noticed a sliver of grudging respect, but it was all well masked by a thick layer of 'If you fuck this up, Harry Potter, so help me I'll Hex you into next week'.

"It sounds like you've made your decision then," she noted, her voice holding a quiet sternness as she squared her shoulders and seemed to prepare for the worst.

"We continue on the same path. For now," Harry confirmed, sounding surer than he felt.

* * *

><p>"I highly doubt that it's entirely unfounded-" Ginny chimed from the kitchen, the kettle whistling and drowning out the rest of her words, but Harry wagered he knew what they were without hearing them <em>this time<em>. They'd been having the same argument for an hour.

"Why can't you just support me in this?" Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time. It was likely a riot of black by now, but he didn't have it within him to care. Ginny walked back into the room carrying a scowl and two cups of tea. If there was one thing he could say in favor of this relationship, it was that they usually managed to fight in a civilized fashion. There was hardly ever any yelling or hexes thrown. They simply tried to talk things out like rational adults.

"Hm, I wonder why?" Ginny bit out, somewhat bitterly as she handed Harry his tea. He took a sip, wincing at how hot it was and set it aside for the moment. "What reason could I possibly have to take issue with my boyfriend going on a date with Draco Malfoy?"

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He knew he should have kept work assignments separate from his relationship, but one of Hermione's terms for maintaining this ruse with Malfoy was that Ginny be told of every incident. Harry could admit that it was fair, but it didn't mean he had to enjoy it. "C'mon, Gin. You can't possibly be worried that I'd cheat on you with Malfoy?" he huffed, the idea completely preposterous.

Ginny rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her tea before replying. "No. I know that. It would take a pretty potent love potion to make you fall for that git, but…." Her voice trailed off a she chewed her lip, looking deep in thought. "What will be people think?" she whispered at last, eyeing him seriously.

Brow furrowed in confusion, Harry picked up his tea and tried to drink it again, burning his tongue in the process. Ginny gave an exasperated huff and cooled it with a flick of her wand and a simple spell. "Thanks," he muttered, but merely clung to the teacup as if it would act as a barrier between them. "What people?"

"What if someone sees you two together? What if some slimy insect like Rita Skeeter catches you out with him?" She shuddered, lip curled up in a disgusted grimace. "You'd be the laughingstock of London if word got out."

Bristling, Harry felt himself sit up just a little bit straighter and glare at her just a little bit harsher. "Why do I get the impression that your concern is less for my reputation and more about your own?"

Ginny had the decency to look scandalized for a brief moment before narrowing her eyes. "This isn't about me, Harry. I'm just trying to protect you and the life we've created together. You're still a highly sought commodity. You have to be careful who you're seen fraternizing with."

Her words sent a sliver of contempt sliding down Harry's spine as he took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. "Well, luckily I won't be _fraternizing_ with _anyone_," he announced icily. "I will, however, be completing the mission I was tasked with, which involves spending time with Draco Malfoy. And if your concern is honestly centered on me, you should know that I don't give a shit what the media or anyone else has to say about me." He stood, letting his tea rest coldly on the table and walked from the room, ignoring Ginny's shrill calls for him to come back and continue their conversation. He'd had enough talking. Now he just wanted to punch something, but it seemed he'd have to settle with silently stewing in his study.

* * *

><p>The lamp on Draco's desk was the only thing illuminating his father's old study, casting the rest of the room in ominous shadows. He hated this office and had been tempted to magically seal it from the rest of the Manor when his father was imprisoned. He loathed the legacy that was left to him, wished he could cast it off like a tattered old coat, but his pride and Lucius' clients would never allow that. He was all that remained of a frail bloodline and the only one clever enough to handle such a business and not get caught.<p>

With a heavy sigh, Draco traced his initials on the framed portrait resting quietly on the desk, followed by his mother's in turn. The air around him shimmered and he knew the small latch on the underside of the expanse of mahogany had appeared. Without looking at it, he yanked the lever and stepped back before the floor fell away, revealing a steep staircase.

He quickly descended, keeping his arms close to his sides in the narrow corridor. It was so tight he was forced to walk sideways in certain areas and he had to wonder how his father, whose frame was not large but certainly larger than his own, had ever navigated this space. Eventually it emptied into a vast room that had to be situated near the dungeons in some way. It was dank and smelled faintly of mildew, but he was able to mask the scent with a charm. Torches flamed to life as he walked briskly through the room, its magic attuned to Draco's wand. When he reached a door at the far end, he felt the wards caressing his skin, making certain he was allowed to pass.

Draco waited patiently for the buzzing to lift from his ears and knew the entrance would be unlocked for him. Inside the room beyond the door were all numbers of things that could send him to Lucius' adjoining cell. Shelves were tucked into the stone, filled with everything from outlawed potion ingredients to cursed objects and even some very deadly magical creatures. It was Draco's little emporium of illegal, his father's really, but he'd inherited this burden along with the title of Lord Malfoy.

Earlier in the week a very high profile client had paid Draco for a vial of virgin's blood and a caldron made of human bone. He knew the kinds of wicked things that could be done with such items, but he didn't hesitate in acknowledging that he had such tools at his disposal. Then he'd procrastinated all week, not wanting to visit his father's horrid cellar, not wishing to learn of what awful things the wizard wanted to do with those objects, and most of all, hating to be a disappointment to the wizard he'd grown unnaturally attracted to.

He didn't understand Potter. At moments he seemed genuinely interested in him and at other times he seemed purposefully detached. It wasn't a quality that usually bothered him in the men he dated, and he wasn't even dating Potter, so he had no idea why it irritated him now. Certainly he seemed on the surface the type of man Draco could get serious about. He was gorgeous in a haphazard kind of way, had a good sense of humor, danced adequately and that didn't even begin to touch on how powerful he was, both socially and magically. Draco needed a strong match if he was ever going to take charge of his own life and forsake the ways of his father.

Shaking his head, Draco pulled himself out of his revere. That was utterly impossible, and he'd never allowed himself to even _consider_ it before now. Grabbing the items he'd been contracted to sell, Draco pushed the thought deep into the recesses of his being. He was the man that he was, a broken Malfoy with a broken legacy, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon. If ever.

Author's Note: Uh oh. It seems Draco has been a very naughty boy. Perhaps Harry really does have something to worry about.


	9. Mounting Tension

Author's Note: So, it's been a while, but I'm still working on this. I promise. I'm just making myself stay a few chapters ahead. Thanks to Cris for the Beta work, thanks to Amanda for talking through some plot points that were irritating me and thanks to all my readers for being patient while I write. (sort of) *grin*

Chapter 9

"I think we should be there," Ron muttered aloud for the fourteenth time that afternoon. He was so distressed he was ignoring the towering sandwich on his plate and just nibbling at a crisp every now and then when Hermione would look up at him.

"We're not going on Harry's date with him," Hermione responded again as she studied the file sprawled out over the dinner table. She'd made copies of everything archives could get her on the Malfoys and brought it home so she could study it more closely.

"But Malfoy is up to something, I'm sure of it," he sulked, poking at the sandwich layers until it toppled over.

"Probably," she chimed. "He often is. But that doesn't give us the right to interfere when Harry has expressly forbid it."

"But _why_ did he forbid it?" Ron whined. "This is supposed to be a mission. He's acting like…."

'_Like it's a real date_,' she thought to herself, finishing what she was sure Ron was about to say. Why indeed. That had been Hermione's initial reaction to Harry's tirade when they'd insisted on accompanying him to wherever Malfoy intended to bring him on their little rendezvous. She'd been hurt that he didn't seem to trust her and it further raised her suspicions as to what was happening in her friend's life to make him act so strangely.

"You remember what Harry said. He can take care of himself," she placated, trying to quiet her fiancé's fears. "Malfoy may be an unsavory character, but he's not ignorant enough to try anything in public."

Ron gave a scoffing laugh and rolled his eyes. "I seriously hope we're not banking everything on Malfoy's intelligence, Mione," he grumbled, making her smile warmly.

"Of course we're not," she responded quietly. "Now, hurry and finish your lunch. We're supposed to be at Grimmauld Place soon."

Narrowing his eyes, Ron gave Hermione a calculating look, the kind she only caught a glimpse of from time to time. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," she replied, looking away from him and back to her file. There were so many ledgers here, each one more complicated than the last and she was finding it impossible to make heads or tails of it. What she could see plainly, however, were that Malfoy's expenses were astronomical by any standards, but there was nothing in his company records to indicate he was bringing in anything near those kinds of funds. Certainly the Slytherin prat wasn't stupid enough to burn a hole straight through his inheritance so soon. There had to be something missing, something forged, something _wrong_ with the files the Ministry had on Malfoy.

She feared that Malfoy was exactly the man their former boss thought him to be, dealing in illegal activities of some kind, though she had no solid evidence to back her theory just yet. Maybe he was a wand for hire, he certainly had enough contacts remaining from his old Death Eater days for that, but it seemed unlikely given his inability to kill even at the behest of the Dark Lord. Perhaps he was making forbidden potions and selling them on the black market. That seemed more Malfoy's style.

Still, what worried her most was not that Draco Malfoy was very likely an evil little git. That much she'd been fairly sure of since she was eleven. What worried her now was her friend and partner. Harry had been increasingly passionate about this case, which wasn't completely out of the ordinary for him, but his secretiveness was. Even when she and Ron begged him to stop stalking the boy at Hogwarts and pleaded with him to shut up about Malfoy's supposed bad deed, Harry would go on and on until they left him to his thoughts. Now he seemed almost protective over Malfoy, as if he had been assigned as the Slytherin's personal guardian angel, even guarding him from Hermione and Ron.

She knew something was different about her friend and she was almost certain she'd pinpointed what it was, but she wasn't sure enough to risk everything on her hunch just yet. But that didn't mean she was willing to let her friend get hurt over misplaced loyalties either.

When she felt Ron's gaze practically burn a hole through her skull, she looked up with an exasperated huff. "I'm following him, alright?"

"On his date? Where he not-so-politely asked you not to interfere?" Ron asked, grinning slightly.

"Precisely," she replied haughtily. "I'm not letting Harry get himself in a situation he can't get out of. No matter what he says."

"Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you break the rules?" Ron said as he got up and strolled around the table, pulling Hermione up and into his arms.

A blush stole across her cheeks. "You might have mentioned it a time or two," she replied breathlessly before Ron took her lips in a lingering kiss.

"Thank you for always doing the right thing," he whispered. "Even when it's not the popular thing."

"Hopefully Harry will appreciate it as much," she muttered, not entirely convinced.

"Hopefully Harry won't have a reason to know you're there," Ron countered and Hermione cherished his optimism. She gave a little sigh and Ron released her so they could gather up their things. Hermione compiled a book of her notes and with a flick of her wand disguised it as a trashy romance novel, stuffing it into her bag as she straightened out her dark robes. "What did you tell Ginny to get her out of the house, anyhow?"

Ron grinned smugly. "I told her I needed help choosing your wedding ring. I figured that ought to buy us a few hours at least."

"That's brilliant, Ron!" she exclaimed, scrunching up her nose in the very next moment. "So long as you don't _actually_ let her choose it. I swear your sister has the worst taste in jewelry. I'd end up with something I couldn't even lift my hand while wearing and you'd end up spending a year's salary."

Ron snorted. "Give me a little credit. I bought your ring over a month ago."

Hermione gaped. It was a rare occasion when Ron surprised her so completely, but whenever it happened it was usually a good thing. This was no exception. "Really?" she gasped, elated. "Can I see it?"

"Of course not!" he tutted and looked regretful, no doubt reading her thoughts, and she was thinking that as soon as Harry was safely home from his date, her new mission was to find this mystery ring. "Mi, please don't. I don't want you to see it until the day!"

"Fine," she conceded with a sigh. She could tell it was important to him. "But you'd better hide it well. You know I won't be able to resist snooping _a little_."

He smiled ruefully and kissed her again, quickly. "Then I'd better get you out of this house now, before you start rummaging through drawers and forget all about the mission."

* * *

><p>Harry couldn't stop pacing.<p>

There was a slight path worn in the carpet beneath his feet he'd been at it so long, but as the minutes ticked by, Harry only grew more anxious. He hadn't known for sure that he still had a date with Malfoy. The way their last meeting had ended in a terrific failure on his part, part of him assumed the blond would back out altogether. It was frustrating that he'd been arguing with everyone over this stupid date, and he didn't even know for sure it was happening.

"Harry, would you please calm down?" Hermione sighed from the sofa nearby, not even bothering to look up from her book.

He gave a start and looked over his shoulder at her, narrowing his eyes. "You're still here? I thought you left with Ron and Ginny."

Hermione looked up, pity staring starkly back at him through her chocolate brown eyes. "Harry," she said slowly, "we've been over this. Ron will keep Ginny out of the house to make sure she doesn't make a scene and I'll be here. With you. Waiting for Malfoy."

"I really don't need a sitter, Mi," he pointed out, but she ignored his words as she turned back to her book. "And you being here is sort of pointless if you're just going to read the whole time and not pay me a bit of attention," he added curtly. Her mood toward him had been icy all week and he certainly hadn't missed the subtle digs toward him in reference to Ginny. He knew this mission affected him more than most, but it was still just a job.

"I'm not here to bolster your mood, Harry," she huffed. "I'm here to make sure things are what they seem."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded, folding his arms defensively against his chest as he puffed up not entirely unlike a rooster.

Hermione looked equally irritated as she stood up, but just as she opened her mouth for some unfortunately logical retort, there was a chime at the door announcing that Harry had company. True to his word, Malfoy was here. His _date_ was here. Why the fuck was he so nervous?

Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, Harry shot Hermione one last scathing glance and moved toward the door, opening it just enough to peer through at his visitor. "Malfoy," he greeted, slipping outside before Hermione could come strolling over and interrupt Harry's mission.

Draco cocked an elegant blond brow at the way Harry hustled them away from his home and onto the sidewalk. "A less confident man would wonder why you're so eager to keep me out of your flat, Potter."

Harry searched for a plausible explanation that didn't sound either ludicrous or too much like the truth and came up at a loss. "I guess it's a good thing I'm not with a less confident man then, hm?" he offered lamely, but it seemed to quell Malfoy's curiosity for long enough to change the subject. "So, where are we going?"

"Clearly not your place," Draco, smirking slightly. "I made reservations at Lago's."

"Lago's, as in the five star _Muggle_ restaurant?" Harry asked, trying to sound less astounded than he actually was as they strolled further down the street and away from Grimmauld Place.

Malfoy's lip quirked into the barest of grins and he nodded. "The food is delicious and the service is anonymous," he mentioned casually and Harry couldn't help the odd sinking sensation he felt in his gut. Apparently Ginny wasn't the only one worried that someone might see him and Malfoy together.

"Right," Harry muttered, stuffing his hands awkwardly into his pockets as they strolled into an alleyway to Apparate.

"Oh, don't sound so offended, Potter. It's nothing personal, but no one knows I'm gay, remember?" he whispered, shooting Harry a smoldering gaze that made his knees feel a bit wibbly. "I'm amazed you've managed to keep it a secret so long with the way your face seems to be in the papers for _something_ every day."

A blush crept up Harry's cheeks at the statement. It was easy to hide the fact that he was gay, because he wasn't, and now would have been the perfect time to come clean, admit what was really going on and go back to being enemies. But then Malfoy stepped forward, twining his arm around Harry's waist and pressed in very close. "Ready?" the blond whispered, his breath ghosting warmly over Harry's lips.

Harry swallowed. "For?" he asked, hoping the words hadn't really come out as a squeaky as they sounded to his ears.

Draco chuckled, a deep and exuberant sound that sent gooseflesh marching up Harry's arms. "For Apparition, of course." His smile deepened as he leaned forward, lips terrifyingly close. "Unless…."

For a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, Harry thought Draco was going to kiss him, his lips tantalizingly parted and wet. In that moment a war raged on inside of Harry, part of him wishing the blond would kiss him, get it over with and show Harry what it felt like to be snogged by a bloke. He was sure he'd hate it and then that would make this whole ordeal a bit less confusing. Except the other part of his brain, which sounded infuriatingly similar to Hermione, pointed out that if he were really so sure he'd hate it then he wouldn't be so conflicted in the first place.

Alas his internal battle was for nothing, because instead of feeling the press of firm lips against his own, Harry only felt the queasy tug of Apparition as the blond stole them away to an alley near the restaurant.

"Okay, so here are my theories," Draco launched in without preamble, making Harry blink after him as they exited the alleyway and strolled toward the restaurant entrance. "Option one, She-Weasel is actually a He-Weasel after all. Option two, you're only dating her to keep your public image as the Wizarding World's Golden Boy pristine, or option three, and my personal favorite, she's just a clingy roommate who you have never and will never have romantic interest in."

Harry gulped and tried to laugh but it came out sounding false even to his own ears. "Sorry to disappoint, but she is definitely a woman," Harry replied. "And I really don't care what the public thinks of me. She _is_, however, living with me."

"But you have no romantic interest in her," Draco finished for him and Harry was loathe to see a spark of hope in his eyes.

Harry winced, unsure what to say. He couldn't risk losing this relationship he'd slowly built between them somehow. It was critical to the case and to getting the proof Kingsley required to clear Malfoy's name or damn him. He wasn't sure which he wanted to happen anymore.

"We've been together since the war," was all he could manage to say on the matter.

"I see," Draco replied, his jaw set in the way Harry was used to seeing it after he'd won a duel of some kind against the Slytherin. "And she doesn't mind that you're here with me?"

"I'm not keeping it from her, if that's what you're getting at," Harry replied. "She's not thrilled about it, but I gave her little choice," he told Draco honestly, even though he still felt like he was deceiving the blond.

If possible, Malfoy looked even more confused than before. "I'm not sure I'm following, Potter. Are you or aren't you dating the ginger shrew?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head wryly. "Why do you care? I thought I was just some random shag."

Malfoy pursed his lips as if caught in a trap. "I never _actually_ said that. And besides, maybe Hell will freeze over and you'll be brilliant in bed. I might want seconds."

With a wince and feigned offense, Harry looked stricken. "Is it really so hard to imagine that I'd be a good lay?"

The host approached them then, leading them to a table near the back, but before Harry could take his seat, Draco leaned intoxicatingly close and whispered hotly against the shell of his ear. "If I couldn't imagine it, we wouldn't be here."

Harry shivered and sat down. When had the tables turned? When had he allowed the reins to switch hands and become the one being seduced instead of the one doing the seducing? "Well," he muttered, clearing his throat to hide the embarrassment in his voice. "At least you have _some_ faith in my abilities."

"Oh, I wouldn't get too cocky, Potter," Draco chuckled, glancing at him over his wine list. "It just means you have some lofty expectations to meet."

Harry felt a pulse of competitive drive sear through his veins as a slow smile curled across his features. He never had been able to back down from a Malfoy-issued challenge, and it didn't seem that now was any exception.

Author's Note: This should be fun *rubs hands together wickedly*


	10. Edible

Author's Note: Please forgive the lack of Beta…it was either this or wait for Merlin knows how long to get it Beta'd. Thanks again to all my loyal readers and their patience as I post this.

Chapter 10

"So," Harry mused aloud over his entrée, which Draco ordered for him against his better judgment. He'd never liked the idea of eating veal and he'd turned his nose up when Malfoy suggested it, but the blond insisted and, never one to look squirmy in front of the enemy, Harry relented. Now there was no way he was going to admit to loving it, so he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible as he chewed, but judging from the subtle smirk on Malfoy's lips, he wasn't doing a very good job faking it. "Tell me a bit about what you do these days," he pried, remembering why he was here after all.

"It's incredibly dull, I assure you," Draco replied before taking a bite of his own meal and watching Harry cautiously. His entire body language changed at Harry's question, his shoulders growing tight and his eyes dark and scrutinizing.

"I'd like to hear about it anyway," he pressed on, wondering what caused that ominous shadow to fall over the blond's previously open face.

Draco leaned in as if he were going to whisper a delicious secret, pointing at Harry's plate with the prongs of his fork. "First, tell me how you like the veal."

With a frown, Harry sighed. "It's…adequate."

A soft chuckle escaped Draco's lips, made a tad darker from the red wine they'd been sharing. "Admit that you love it and I'll drone on about my job for as long as you like."

With a begrudging huff, Harry scowled, barely resisting the temptation to cross his arms over his chest. "Fine. It's brilliant. It's the best thing I've ever tasted," he muttered.

Draco's chest rose and fell in silent laughter as Harry continued to glare balefully across the table at him. "You look as though you've swallowed poison, Potter. Conceding to me couldn't possibly be that painful, could it? Although, that might be a first."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Harry grumbled lightly and Draco tilted his head slightly, that haunted look returned.

"Why _are_ you here, Potter?" the man whispered, setting aside his fork, his fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass. "According to every magazine and newspaper printed since the war you are quite happy with the Weasley girl."

"I suppose you checked every single one," Harry teased, but Draco's gaze remained stoic as he nodded and Harry gaped slightly, at a loss for words.

"Don't look so surprised, Potter," he sighed, spinning his glass so that liquid crested just to the rim of his glass before sinking back down again, leaving dark stains trailing behind the wave of wine. "I'm a careful man. I have to be. I'm not well liked in some circles, tolerated in most and downright despised in others and I needed to know which group you fell into."

"And?" Harry asked, trying not to sound nervous despite the sudden tightness in his guts.

Draco's jaw clenched as if biting a bitter fruit. "I've yet to decide. You've never once mentioned my family in an interview, which I appreciate given our history. You've never said anything too harsh about the ex-Death Eaters, nothing uncommon for an Auror anyway. Merely that it's your mission to stop anyone who is still using Dark and illegal magic."

"Well, there's nothing for you to worry about then, is there?" he asked, the question lingering between them.

A slow smile curled Draco's lips. "Why, Potter? Am I under investigation?"

All the air seemed to drain from Harry's immediate vicinity, but he kept his face placid as he gripped his own wine glass, finding slight comfort in the small act as if the glass were anchoring him to the table. "Do you really think that this is how I would conduct an investigation, Malfoy? Sleeping with the enemy?" he answered evasively.

Mercurial eyes stared for a long moment and then Malfoy nodded to himself. For a startling second Harry thought that Draco was confirming his words, that the blond really did think that this was how he typically went about catching criminals, but in the next minute Malfoy was changing the subject, clearly satisfied with Harry's answer. "My work," he began, pausing to sip at his wine, "Fluctuates…. Since my father's untimely exodus to Azkaban, his clients have relied upon me to pick up the slack. Unfortunately, I have no interest in the work. It's all politics and back scratching and false platitudes and it's not for me."

Harry held back a scoff at that. Quite frankly it sounded exactly like Draco's own personal heaven, but perhaps that was the Malfoy from school, not the man who sat in front of him today. Harry had surely changed over the past few years, why not Draco?

"What _did_ your father do for a living?" Harry asked, even though he had a lengthy file on the elder Malfoy's dark artifact business. "Besides make my life utterly miserable, of course," he added lightly, wishing he could retract his words at Malfoy's narrowed gaze.

"My father was a brilliant man. Wise, terrifying and even gentle when he needed to be." Draco stared off, almost wistfully before reining his attention back to Harry. "But he made several mistakes in his life that I don't intend to repeat."

Harry was mildly shocked at the relief he felt at Malfoy's words. "Well, that's good, right? So you've changed your father's business?"

"I've made plenty of changes," he answered vaguely. "And I'll continue to make them until I enjoy getting up and going into the office each day."

"It makes a big difference when you love your job, I think. It did for me anyway," Harry admitted, taking another bite of his food before it got cold.

"You say that as if you haven't always loved being a hero," Draco chuckled.

"Being a hero isn't my job." The words came out a tad more bitter than he'd intended.

"No. I guess not," Draco conceded coyly. "Just more of who you are, I guess," he added with a wink, making Harry roll his eyes.

"I quit my job recently," he whispered, not meeting Draco's shocked gaze. "I know exactly what it's like not to believe in what you do, to hate it."

"I read you were fired," Draco argued, but not much. Harry could tell the blond believed him by the warm, questioning smile he offered. "What happened?"

"Bastards," Harry hissed lightly. "I got in a fairly heated argument with my superior over an assignment. I didn't agree with the morals of the mission," he elaborated, a tight clenching in his stomach as he recalled that he was continuing the same mission on his own now. "The Ministry has corrupted me," he muttered. "And I've let it. I hated who it was turning me into. What it still is."

Draco nodded sagely. "I know the feeling. Sometimes I wonder if the word pureblood is just a sarcastic joke. I feel like my blood is tainted beyond recognition sometimes. My parents' mistakes, my own…it all tells a fairly gruesome story."

"We all have those," Harry assured quietly, trying not to reflect on his own. All the people who died, even the ones he saved and still managed to hurt. Like the girl he asked to move in with him and then abandoned to play Auror with Draco. "I'm sure the skeletons in your closets are no uglier than mine," he offered, realizing that he meant it. Harry honestly didn't believe that Draco was a criminal, or that he deserved to be treated as such.

With a wry grin, Draco nodded. "Very true. My skeletons are quite attractive. Like me, wouldn't you say?" he flirted.

Harry rolled his eyes lightly, but he could feel the heat of a blush creep along his neck. "Beautiful and arrogant. Typical."

The faint flush that stole against Draco's cheeks was more endearing than Harry was willing to admit. Something coiled lazily through his gut, warm and soothing even as it made him want to squirm nervously. "So glad you noticed," Malfoy said at last, his eyes locked with Harry's in a smoldering battle, seemingly challenging Harry to leap across the table and take what he wanted.

But what did he want exactly?

Swallowing thickly, Harry tore his gaze free of Malfoy's and looked down at his plate. "I never answered your question," he whispered, looking up to see Draco's thoughtful smirk. He'd assumed an explanation would be necessary, but the blond still staring at him seemed to understand exactly what question he was referring to. "I'm here because I want to be." He knew the words were true, even if they weren't true for the right reasons. He wanted this case closed and he even wanted it to go favorably for Malfoy. He wanted the man smiling across the table at him to walk away a free and innocent man. But for that to happen, Malfoy actually had to _be_ innocent. "And because you invited me," he added teasingly, a heartbeat later.

"That I did," Draco agreed softly, his gaze boring straight through Harry's numerous defenses. "Do you know why?" Harry's breath caught in his throat as he shook his head, waiting for Draco's answer. "Because I found it difficult to concentrate after I saw you out that night, the way your body practically melded against that other man's. The way your eyes kept drifting to me as you danced with him." He smirked, a familiar expression that made Harry narrow his eyes. "I knew then that you wanted to kiss me," he continued as Harry began to glower at him. "And I found myself wanting to let you."

Harry rolled his eyes, even as his heart gave a vicious thump against his ribcage. "If I do, it's only because it's an easy way to shut you up," Harry countered, but Draco's eyes were sparkling and triumphant.

"Then why don't you come over here and shut me up already?" Draco asked, his voice low and seductive.

"Because I don't kiss on the first date," he argued lamely, his heart beating so quickly now he thought it might break free.

"Technically you could consider this our second date," Draco pointed out and Harry didn't think he was imagining that the blond leaned closer to him.

Harry scrunched his nose and shook his head. "Do you really want me to remember our first date as the night you fell into a drunken stupor the moment you got me home?" he pointed out, smirking at Draco's loss for words. "Besides, I don't kiss on the second date either."

A soft snort met his ears as Draco shook his head wryly. "On which date_ is_ it acceptable to kiss you then?"

"Maybe the fourth," Harry teased, grinning madly.

"The fourth?" Draco balked. "If it takes you that long just to snog someone, how many dates until we shag?"

Harry's grin grew impossibly wider and he shrugged. "Eighteen at least….twenty-five tops."

"I knew you'd be hard work, Potter," Draco mumbled, erasing the mirth from Harry's face.

"Wait…what's that supposed to mean?" Harry grumbled as Draco's genuine, bell-like laughter filled his ears, suddenly making him curious why he was ever cross to begin with.

* * *

><p>Eating dessert should be illegal. That's the conclusion Harry came to while watching Malfoy fellate his spoon of Crème brûlée over and over and over again. He'd hear the sharp crack of Malfoy's silver breaking through the sugary crust, before dipping into the buttery yellow custard and then watched with rapt attention as he raised it to succulent-looking lips. If watching the blond's perfectly pick tongue dart out to caress the spoon, or seeing the way it so completely disappeared behind those lips wasn't enough, the noises he made while enjoying the dessert should be outlawed on their own.<p>

It made Harry's trousers uncomfortably tight and caused him to forget entirely about his own dessert, his focus entirely riveted to the debauched display before him. "Malfoy," Harry choked out, a shiver coursing through him as mercurial eyes met his.

"Hm?" The sound was hummed around the utensil in his mouth, an absurdly erotic slurp following as he pulled it free. "What?"

"Must you continue to keep eating…like that?" he asked, gesturing to the general direction of Malfoy's mouth.

"Like what?" Malfoy inquired, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. Harry merely gave a defeated sigh. He certainly wasn't going to explain it to the sadistic Slytherin. "If you're wondering if I make those noises when I'm sucking cock," Malfoy murmured hotly, his smirk widening. "I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out."

Harry swallowed thickly. "You're sort of wicked," he pointed out unnecessarily. "Has anyone told you that?"

"Yes," Draco replied with an elegant shrug. "But never anyone with such a pretty mouth."

A flush stole across Harry's cheeks before he could help himself. "Still not kissing on the first date," he reminded Malfoy, his voice thankfully unshaken.

"Fine, fine," Malfoy lifted his hands in defeat, a slow smirk spreading across his porcelain features. He opened his mouth to say more when the waiter arrived, presenting a bill that the blond scooped up despite Harry's scowl. "_I_ invited _you_," he said in answer to the unvoiced protest.

As they finished and wandered out of the restaurant, Harry felt even more uncomfortable than he had sitting across from Draco at dinner. Something about the man's stride, the way his presence felt like a firm weight at his side, was not entirely unpleasant. In fact, not unpleasant at all. The air was damp from an evening shower and his date's hair was already attracting droplets that made the platinum strands look more silver than blond. He imagined Malfoy as an old man and quickly determined that he'd still look regal, perhaps more so, and Harry found himself wondering what he might look like in ten years time – twenty or thirty.

Not that looks mattered much in the scheme of things. What really mattered was chemistry, compatibility, but when Malfoy looked up and caught him staring, the wry smile he gave him showed a hint of how much of those things they might share as well. "That mind of yours is spinning wildly. I can practically see it working," Draco whispered.

"I'm just…enjoying myself," Harry admitted somewhat awkwardly.

A soft chuckle met his ears and he found his hand enveloped in strong warmth. "I know the very idea of enjoying a date with me must send your mind reeling," he teased. "I know it's having a similar affect on me."

"You're enjoying yourself too then?" His fingers flexed within Draco's hold, almost testing, but those lithe fingers didn't release him and the feeling comforted him more than it should have.

"Uncanny, isn't it?"

They kept walking along the London street that way, hand in hand, as Harry's mind skipped back and forth between comfort and confusion, guilt and pleasure, his stomach churning with the battle raging inside of him.

"I have a confession to make." Draco's voice broke through Harry's inner turmoil and he glanced over at the man.

"Oh?" Harry asked, bracing himself for the worst. _This is it. This is where I find out that Malfoy is as bad a man as Fledgecraft vowed and I'll be forced to arrest him_. His heart felt like it was beating far too loudly in the quiet of the street. Or maybe this was what Kingsley had been warning him of and he'd just fallen eagerly into Malfoy's own little trap.

"I had ulterior motives for this date," he admitted, his hand still firmly within Harry's.

"You did," Harry rasped, not a question so much as an acknowledgement of his own stupidity. Of course he had. Draco Malfoy did nothing without ulterior motives. The past was not so easily erased and people didn't change, not really. Not the way Harry wanted to desperately to think they could.

A soft sigh escaped the blond's lips and his thumb began drawing circles on Harry's palm, a nervous gesture, he suspected. "I had trouble not thinking about you since that night at the club," he said at last. "There was a spark of interest and I found it increasingly difficult to ignore." Harry's mouth went dry as a completely different confession than Harry had been expecting tumbled from the blond's lips, but he remained silent as Draco plowed ahead. "I was half hoping this date would be the disaster I expected and I could put you out of my head for good."

"And?" Harry asked, holding his breath as he listened for the answer, not even sure which way he wanted Draco's opinion to tilt.

"And," the blond huffed, "You chew too loudly, you stare quite a bit more than is usually polite and your table manners are dreadful," he pointed out.

Scorned laughter echoed hollowly around them and Harry couldn't recall the last time he'd heard such a sound from his own throat.

"But," Draco said quickly, stopping them just inside the mouth of an alleyway. "I don't find myself minding any of that as much as I usually do."

Malfoy's stormy gaze seemed to be lit from behind, glowing silver from beneath a thicket of blond lashes and Harry's gaze was riveted to the spot as if he were compelled into stillness. "What a grand compliment," he said at last, even though part of him knew that from a Malfoy, it was.

Draco laughed lightly. "You're uncouth, untidy and an annoying do-gooder," he continued, but Harry bristled and cut him off.

"And you're a smug, arrogant prat," Harry countered, green eyes narrowing.

"Yes. I am," Draco agreed, surprising him. "And I have no intention of changing. Do you?"

"No," Harry bit out, standing a bit taller, changing his stance as if preparing for a blow. He knew the blond had no intention of hitting him, but he still felt the air charged around them like trapped lightning.

"And still I want you," Draco whispered, as if the words astounded him as much as they did Harry.

Time seemed to slow down in that moment. The wind kicked up and rustled Draco's hair and coat, making him look lost and powerful all at once. Harry realized in that moment the undeniable attraction between them, tethering them together as the street lamps seemed to flicker from the energy the pair gave off. Draco's words echoed inside of his head until he felt he might go mad and deep below all of it was Hermione's logical voice of waning. He knew he was going too far, breaking so many of his own rules, but in this one moment, he didn't care about anything but the man right in front of him.

And then time seemed to shift once more, speeding up to claim the moments it had lost. Their lips crashed together violently, teeth clashing with the force of their kiss. Both men scrambled for dominance and tore at the other, their twin desires making them wild and hungry for the other's touch. Harry tasted blood but didn't know if it was his or Draco's and didn't care. He plunged his tongue through Draco's willing lips, inciting a fevered battle right there in the alleyway until the need for air drove them apart, blinking at one another as they sucked in breath after shuddering breath.

As Harry's carefully constructed world came crumbling apart all around him, it was Draco's hand that finally made him falter as it tore free of his grasp. "No," Draco said, shaking his head in bewilderment. "This won't work. It can't," he whispered, almost to himself as he slowly backed away from Harry and further into the waiting darkness of the alley.

Harry reached out before he could stop himself, but dropped his hand as Draco merely stared at it, horror written all over his haughty features. "This was a mistake," he whispered and disappeared with a crack of Apparition, leaving Harry behind to stare, shell-shocked, and wonder what had just happened.

Author's Note: Oh No! How could this writer do this to you all? She's awful!


	11. Gravestone

Author's Note: Hooray for the return of one of my oldest beta's, Shannon and thanks to everyone who has been patiently waiting and reviewing.

Chapter 11

A sterling silver candelabra crashed to the marble floor the moment Draco arrived back to the manor, thrown to the ground in a fit of rage along with several other pieces cluttering the side table nearest to him. The back of his head hit the wall with a dull thud as he sank slowly to the ground amongst the items that bore the brunt of his frustration.

"What the hell was I thinking?" he muttered to himself in the still dark foyer.

The night had gone splendidly. Potter had been appropriately charming and mysterious, his emerald gaze persistently enchanting and his sense of humor was a perfect fit against Draco's own dry musings. He'd never smiled so much on any date as he had that night, and he'd never been kissed as if his very soul was being captured through the act. So what was the problem?

He felt his body tremble and growled with renewed anger, forcing himself to stand and shake it off. Malfoys weren't so easily spooked, especially not by the mere kiss of a Gryffindor. Squaring his shoulders, Draco set off to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink, letting the spicy liquor burn away all remnants of Potter's taste. "He's dating the Weasley girl," he muttered. "It never would have worked out."

Slowly the fear in his veins began to ebb and the cool will of his Malfoy blood resumed its place, pumping his heart more evenly than his erratic feelings for Potter ever had. But just when he'd lulled himself into a state of stoic confidence that nothing had changed and that he was still the same unaffected man he'd been that morning, he felt a shift in the wards followed quickly by a pounding at his front door.

"Buggering fuck."

He debated not answering, letting the new arrival pound his fist bloody. He knew who it was, who it must be, and dreaded that little confrontation. Though Potter deserved to know what had happened, Draco certainly wasn't about to tell him that their kiss has scared the Hippogriffs out of him. The only way out of this now was to warn the prat off, so, drink in hand, Draco marched over and yanked open the door, smirking as Potter nearly fell forward when his fist hit clear air.

"Can I help you?" he drawled elegantly, his face giving nothing away. "It's late. Any requests for charitable donations should be taken up with my assistant in the morning."

Harry merely glared at him, those haunting eyes glimmering like a cursed amulet. "Fuck you, Malfoy," he growled at last.

"Always so eloquent. I'm amazed you haven't risen to Minister yet with such clever retorts as those," he quipped, keeping his body firmly placed in the area he'd left open in the doorway, not budging an inch in his attempts to keep Potter outside. "You should go. It's late," he repeated.

"I know exactly how late it is, Malfoy," Harry spat. "We were _together _just a few minutes ago and I knew what time it was then as well."

"Was that you?" Draco mused, lips forming a terrible sneer as he saw Harry's rage falter, exposing just a hint of injury before his face closed down altogether.

A harsh huff of laughter escaped Potter's lips, completely devoid of amusement. "I shouldn't be surprised. I knew the likeliness that this was all just a big game to you."

"And yet you still participated," Draco mocked cruelly. "Why is that?"

Harry's Adam's Apple bobbed enticingly as he swallowed once and shook his head wryly. "I guess you'll never know," he whispered, before turning abruptly and walking away. Draco's eyes followed his form as it walked the gravel path leading to the vast gate at the end. It took all his strength not to call out, beg him to come back. Thankfully as his self control waned and desire won out, Harry disappeared in a swirl of darkness as magic wrapped around him and Disapparated him back to his home, a pub, or wherever the hell Potter went when evil little gits were too afraid to tell him the truth.

Draco remained in the doorway a long time after. He wasn't even sure how long he'd stared at the spot where Harry left before he finally pulled himself inside and slammed the door with a sense of brooding finality.

* * *

><p>A frightful wind whipped at Harry's dark locks as he stood on a vast cliff overlooking a narrow strip of shore. Shell Cottage could be seen in the distance, one light on where Harry knew Bill was probably pouring over the Gringott's paperwork he'd brought home with him. He knew Bill was happy, and for a moment Harry tried to insert himself into that life. He imagined sitting in a quiet study while Ginny slept, their children dreaming in another room down the hall and shuddered.<p>

It seemed cold up there all year long, even in the height of summer Harry caught a chill when he came to visit Dobby's grave. He sank into the grass, idly pushing the blades back where they'd begun to overtake the small headstone. Harry meant to trade the makeshift rock out once the war was over, replace it with a proper monument, but he could never muster the willpower to take away the stone that now seemed so symbolic to his life, to his victory. Besides, Harry had a feeling Dobby would have liked the small tribute, and probably would have made it seem as though they'd erected a vast statue in his honor instead of a measly carved boulder.

The thought of it made him smile. Dobby had always been so easy to please. Why couldn't anyone else in his life be that way? Why did all the others make it so difficult? Ginny craved so much from him it often left him exhausted and he found it harder and harder to imagine submitting himself to that every day. It might be worth it if he got something in return, in fact, he knew it would be, but all she ever did was take until he was a wisp of himself. Not that he could exactly blame her. He could have fought with her, raged at her, told her that he thought she was taking advantage. That he thought she didn't love him at all.

The silent arguments he had in his mind always ended with that, and he always asked himself what it mattered so long as he loved her. Because he did. Or at least he had. Now he wasn't so certain. Which, as was true for many things in his life, was all Malfoy's fault.

Not even when he first began to crush on Ginny Weasley had he ever felt anything as potent as he had tonight for that Slytherin bastard. His lips still tingled where they'd touched Malfoy's and his body still hummed in response to him, which was infuriating since the arsehole had left him standing there like a love struck idiot in the middle of London and then tossed it all back in his face moments later.

He'd been a fool. Of course Malfoy had been playing games this entire time. Why else would he even begin to feign interest in someone like Harry? Even first generation Purebloods were inferior to Malfoy's kind. The bigoted thought had him fisting the grass and he had to calm himself before he ruined Dobby's poor gravesite.

"I thought I'd find you here," called a soft voice from behind him, and Harry knew without looking that it was Hermione.

"Just doing a little landscaping," he muttered, tearing out a few weeds and tossing them over the cliff's edge.

"Dobby's lucky to have such a tender groundskeeper," she mused as she joined him on the grassy knoll. The sounds of the ocean filled the silence between them, waves lapping at the shore below in a calming ebb and flow. "What happened tonight?" she asked, breaking the pregnant pause that seemed to cling to Harry's skin.

"I fucked up," Harry admitted without hesitation, putting on his strict Auror face. "I allowed myself to get too confident. I let the target get the upper hand and it cost me."

"You kissed him."

The words hung in the air, stinging at the corners of Harry's eyes. They weren't harsh or judgmental, just a stated fact with an edge of sympathy laced within.

"I kissed him," Harry repeated, the sound of it foreign to his own ears. "And he left. He was playing me the whole time," he sighed. "Hell, he might even know why I was sent to him in the first place. It's my own fault, really. I was careless."

"Not everything is your burden to bear, Harry," she sniped, sounding churlish over his admission. "You're just a man."

"I'm Harry Potter," he bit out. "Or hadn't you heard? I'm supposed to be perfect. I'm supposed to be one step ahead at all times. I'm supposed to get the bad guys, not the other way around."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "You're just a man," she repeated gently.

"I'm an idiot," Harry muttered sullenly, wishing he could rub out the pain that flexed his heart.

"That too," Hermione teased, clearly ignoring his scowl. "You could have told me that you had genuine feelings for him, you know."

Scoffing, Harry turned toward her for the first time. "How could I do that when I could hardly admit it to myself?"

"Fair point," she sighed, leaning against his shoulder. "No one would fault you this, Harry. I mean, being gay and all."

Harry gave a scoffing laugh. "I think Ginny might have something to contradict that." He didn't even want to mention aloud the fit that Ron would have if he discovered Harry's secret.

"Well, one person maybe," she amended with a wince. "Still, even she would get over it. Ron, too." She always knew what he was thinking and he both loved and hated that about her.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Harry sighed, leaning more heavily against his friend. "It was mental of me to think, for even a second, that Draco Malfoy was a human being. He doesn't want me. He never did."

"Perhaps," Hermione reasoned. "Or maybe this was all supposed to happen this way so you could come to terms with what you really want. Malfoy isn't the only gay wizard in the world, Harry. Not even the only one in London."

"I know," he sighed, hating that he wished Hermione would encourage him to chase after Draco if that's who he really wanted, but he knew she was right. She always was. "I need to break up with Ginny."

"For starters," Hermione agreed. "Just…be gentle. I know she's been a bit trying lately, but she has to know, on some level, that you can't offer the kind of life you'd both hoped. I'm sure she's just trying to make things work the way she thinks they should because she doesn't know what else to do."

"Maybe," he muttered tiredly.

Her hand clasped his arm and squeezed lightly. "Everything will be alright, Harry. You'll see. One day you might even want to thank Malfoy." Her voice trailed off for only a second before she laughed, short and almost hysterical. "Okay, maybe that's pushing it, but I really do think this was a sort of blessing in disguise, Harry."

Harry didn't have the energy to argue, so he merely nodded. "I need sleep," he whispered, even though he knew it wouldn't come to him tonight. "Can I stay at your place? I can't face Ginny right now."

Hermione shifted to get up, offering her hand to help him up once she was standing. "Of course. Although…you might want to Owl her and tell her you're not coming home tonight, so that she doesn't worry."

"Ah, but she should be worried," he muttered in response. "Tomorrow her entire world shatters." _Just like mine did tonight_, he thought to himself.

"Well, that's certainly not conceited at all. Give her a little credit, Harry. Ginny's a strong and capable woman. She'll be fine," Hermione chastised.

Harry's chest heaved with a sigh and he nodded. "You're right. I'm the only one that's damaged here. She'll spring back up and likely marry someone that could give her ten times the life I could have."

"It's all for the best, Harry," Hermione comforted, holding him to her. "You'll see that eventually. Please try not to be so melancholy over it. Malfoy's an idiot if he couldn't see what a catch you are. Someone else will."

And that's when Harry fully realized how utterly lonely he was. "I hope so," he whispered to himself as he allowed Hermione to lead them away from the cliff and back toward the winding road where they could safely Apparate.

* * *

><p>Ron didn't ask any questions when Harry followed Hermione through the front door and Harry was thankful for that. Ron stared at him for a long moment before nodding curtly. "You know where the guest room is, Harry," Hermione was saying, breaking the silent staring contest as she gestured down the hall. "Are you hungry at all?"<p>

"No." He shook his dark head and offered a sad smile. "I don't think I could eat. If it's okay, I think I'll just go to bed."

"Of course, Harry," she replied, nodding solemnly as she sat down next to Ron. "Let us know if you need anything."

With a nod, Harry padded back to the guest room and quietly shut the door behind him before leaning back against the cool wood. He'd certainly gone and fucked everything up now. It would be lovely if he could blame it all on Malfoy, or even Fledgecraft, but the truth was that all the terrible things that had happened over that last few weeks had been entirely his fault.

He could have flatly refused Fledgecraft when he'd issued his barbaric demands. He should have heeded Kingsley's advice and kept things strictly professional and then he wouldn't be here, in his friends' flat, wondering if he would ever get the opportunity to taste Draco's sweet lips again. _Malfoy_, he reminded himself. First names are for friends, family and lovers and Draco Malfoy falls into none of those categories.

And now he had quite the mess on his hands. He had to break things off with Ginny and make her move out, which might be the most difficult thing he'd done since killing the world's most powerful wizard. Then he had to confess his reasons to Ron and his family – easily the second hardest thing. And then…well, Harry had no idea what to do after that. Should he start dating? That seemed a daunting task and made him feel a bit ill just to think about it. He shuddered to think what the media would do with this new revelation.

Sneering and tired, Harry pulled off his jumper and tossed it aside, pulling back the flowery bedspread before shimmying out of his trousers and slinking beneath the coverlet. The bed was warm and smelled of magnolias, making him wonder what Malfoy's linens smelled like. Spicy, he wagered, like his skin. Vanilla and nutmeg with a hint of something soft like worn silk. Gods he was pathetic. Right this moment Malfoy was probably regaling his friends about the laughable way Harry Potter fell for him and here he was, lying alone in an unfamiliar bed and fondly recalling the way Malfoy smelled.

It wasn't fair.

Then he heard raised voices from the other room and felt a wave of panic. He guessed what happened at once. Ron likely persisted to know what Harry was doing there and Hermione felt obliged to tell him. Either she only informed him that Harry was leaving Ginny, or she told him everything. He doubted Hermione would do that, but wondered for a moment how cowardly it was that he almost wished she had. It would make things so much easier if he never had to have that conversation with Ron.

When the voices grew louder and perhaps a bit closer, Harry scrambled out of bed and got dressed. He didn't want to have this fight half naked. He didn't want to have this fight at all. His eyes trailed from the door to the window, back and forth several times. He could leave now, let them argue about it on their own tonight and see them tomorrow. But where would he go? Not home, surely. Not Malfoy's. Or he could stay and listen to Ron berate him about his abominable feelings and the way he was leaving his little sister on top of everything else that had happened tonight.

He dove for the window.

The latch was stuck, but a quick lubrication charm fixed it and soon he was through, cursing as the rosebush outside tore his skin and jumper. Shaking it off, he leapt to his feet and with one last glance back at his friends' cozy little home, he Disapparated into the heart of London.

* * *

><p>Harry wandered the streets for a long time, feeling guilt and relief wash over him in equal parts along his journey. He'd never run from anything in his life before now, but somehow this all seemed so much bigger than a looming war or a madman determined to destroy the world.<p>

Okay. So, he was exaggerating, but this was easily more humiliating than anything that had happened to him before. Shouldn't he have recognized his sexuality long before now? And to have it all burst forth with Malfoy of all people was just the icing on a very twisted cake.

Looking up he saw a heavy wooden sign dangling overhead advertising The Enchanted Dragon's Pub. It seemed to shimmer out of existence when he didn't look at it directly, and he knew it had to be a magical establishment, though he'd never been there, and suddenly he felt quite parched.

It was far too late, or rather early, for a normal pub to still be open, but when Harry pushed inside there were a handful of people sitting about and staring into their half-full glasses. It seemed a brilliant pastime to Harry, so he pulled a stool up to the bar and joined them. The place was poorly lit, smelled vaguely of old oats and all the surfaces had a sticky sheen to them. Just the kind of place for him and his massive pity party.

None of the patrons spoke to him or even looked his way, even the bartender seemed reluctant to spend more time with him than the few minutes it took to hand Harry his drink and take his money. It was blessedly quiet until he heard a sadistic laugh from the corner. His eyes trained on the noise automatically, coming from a booth in a dark alcove. Still, no amount of dimness could blanch out the color of such a shockingly blond head of hair.

Harry groaned as he realized how right he'd been earlier than night. There sat Draco across from what looked like Blaise Zabini and the darker man was coughing from laughing so hard. It wouldn't be long now before all of Wizarding Europe knew that Harry Potter was a bloody pouf who was inexplicably smitten with his arch nemesis.

Author's Note: I got an invitation to the pity party, did you? He's registered at Quality Quidditch if anyone was curious.


	12. Longing

Author's Note: Many thanks to Shannon for the once over and thanks to all my readers & reviewers. You all deserve cupcakes.

Chapter 12

Harry watched Draco and Zabini in the corner booth and debated for a long time, vowing not to act rashly the way he'd always done in school, the way that always got him into trouble. As he saw it, there were really only two options; Interrupt them or flee. He supposed he could stay and nurse his pint, but he'd be damned if he would give Malfoy and Zabini the upper hand by letting them notice him first.

But really, the choice had always been clear. Harry wasn't a coward, so he would confront Malfoy and end this little game between them once and for all. If he was really the kind of man that would air Harry's dirty laundry out to his friends like this, then he wasn't the man Harry had wanted regardless.

* * *

><p>The grip on Draco's wine glass was inordinately tight, and though part of him feared he might break the fragile stem, he didn't seem to have enough control over his own hand to loosen it. The barkeep kept a cask of his favorite vintage in the back for just these occasions when only a dark pub would do. It had taken a decent amount of bargaining before the gruff man had allowed it, but now they could both be content. Draco had his wine and the bartender no longer had to listen to Draco's constant whinging about drinking the swill they served everyone else.<p>

If only he could stop Zabini from looking at him as if he had sprouted an extra head that bore the uncanny resemblance to the Dark Lord, the night might improve. "You're serious?" Zabini asked after a pregnant pause. It seemed the hysterical laughter was finally behind them and they could move on, although Draco wasn't looking forward to the next line of questions. "You can't honestly think that they would let you go so easily."

"_Let_ me?" Draco hissed, displeasure coursing through him. "They have no control over me, Blaise. As I see it, they want something that I have, which puts them at my mercy. They are _my_ poppets, not the other way around."

"Draco, you're mad if you think that some of the most powerful wizards in all of Europe will simply move on and find a new contact for all of their illegal artifacts because you've…found someone? What does that even mean? Who could possibly be worth all this trouble?" Dark eyes bore into him as if they could penetrate Draco's very soul and find the answers there, but Draco knew it was folly. There had only been one gaze that had ever been able to pierce straight to the heart of him, and he might never see those emerald orbs again.

"They'll get over it. They'll have to. I can turn the inventory over to you and you can take over if you like. I'm just not doing it anymore," Draco replied, obstinately ignoring the other part of the question. If there was one thing he'd become adept at over the years it was avoiding talk of his love life.

"Me? I don't want anything to do with that business. I'm squeaky clean these days and plan to stay that way. One brush with the Ministry was enough and I have no intention of letting them catch me so much as fingering an illegal artifact," he rebuked, rolling his eyes at Draco's lecherous smirk. "You should have turned it away from the start," he added, not for the first time.

"Life is made up of should haves, but you know I had little choice in the matter. The expectations of Lucius Malfoy are often daunting, no more so than this instance." Draco sighed and lifted his glass to his lips before letting it sink back to the table without drinking from it. "Stop looking at me that way. This isn't all that out of character."

"Do you even hear yourself? From the moment I met you it's always been 'Malfoys have a legacy to uphold'," he mocked in a near perfect impersonation. "_That _was when you were _eight_, and now suddenly you're dumping it all down the drain?"

"Maybe I think the Malfoy name deserves a new legacy," Draco bit out. It hardly made sense, even to him. All he knew was that even if he'd already ruined any potential relationship with Potter, he'd finally discovered what wanted out of life most was the connection he'd felt. All he could think about now was going to sleep and waking up with a man who could make him feel alive. Although he'd be lying if he said the face on that someone didn't bare an eerie resemblance to The Boy Who Lived.

Blaise sighed and shook his head knowingly. "Fine. You won't budge. It's probably for the best, as long as you can get out without getting yourself killed," he huffed. "Will you at least tell me who the mystery woman is? It's obviously not Astoria."

"I've never been particularly attracted to Astoria," Draco muttered unnecessarily.

"And how many times have I accused you of being gay for that same fact?" he countered with an undignified snort. "This one must be spectacular, because Astoria is gorgeous, charming, witty and she's practically thrown herself at you. How could any man resist?"

"It's quite easy, actually. Perhaps you should marry her if you feel so strongly about it," he pointed out.

"I would if she'd have me, but alas, I tried and failed." If Draco hadn't known better he'd say his perpetual bachelor best mate was sulking.

"I can put in a good word for you, if you like," Draco offered, wondering if it was peculiar that he felt no twinge of jealousy that his best friend had just essentially admitted to hitting on the woman he was supposedly casually dating.

Draco smirked at the light that sparked in his friend's eyes and nearly laughed as Blaise quickly recovered and brushed at an invisible crumb on the table. "If it comes up," he answered noncommittally as if Draco were to introduce him to his dentist.

He was about to tease Blaise about his obvious crush when his own stepped into view. Harry seemed to steal all the air from Draco's immediate vicinity, maybe the entire pub with nothing but the heat in his gaze. "Potter," he murmured, grateful his voice didn't even so much as crack, despite the growing pressure in his chest. "Have you taken up eavesdropping as a hobby since you lost your job?"

The insult came automatically and once it was out, Draco doubted he'd get a chance to retract it. He watched as Harry's jaw clenched, but he turned to face Blaise instead. "I suppose he told you all about it then, hm, Zabini?"

"Told me about what?" Zabini asked, confusion written plainly on his face as his gaze flicked between them.

"Oh, don't play coy, Zabini. It's not very flattering on you. I saw you laughing; do you think I really couldn't sort out what Malfoy's been telling you?" Harry demanded, his hands working into fists at his side.

"You mean about finding you at Madam Primpernelle's buying breast cream?" Draco interrupted, trying to defuse the situation before wands were drawn, realizing seconds later he could have perhaps chosen a less embarrassing story. "I hadn't actually gotten around to it yet, but thanks for the reminder, Potter. In fact, hard as it may seem to believe, your name hasn't entered our conversation once this evening," he added, trying to relay the truth of that fact with his eyes so that Harry didn't make an arse of himself and out them both in one fell swoop.

Doubt flickered across his haunting green gaze and then he seemed to sag a bit before lifting his chin almost defiantly. "Sorry to have bothered you then," he murmured, almost resignedly, and turned to walk away.

"Give me a moment," Draco whispered to his friend before leaping up and following Harry, grabbing him by the elbow. "Potter, wait," he demanded, yanking more fiercely on his arm when Harry refused to budge. It was useless. Apparently Potter's body was as stubborn as his emotions. "I was only talking to Blaise about business," he assured.

"And it's none of mine," Harry grumbled under his breath. "Trust me, I understand."

"Technically, no," Draco conceded, "But it could be, if you still wanted."

Harry turned slowly then, looking skeptically at Draco over his shoulder. "What?"

"What happened at the Manor…." He took a deep breath, trying to draw himself up taller. "It was wrong of me to run and to chase you off like that. I was…confused." Confused sounded better than frightened, but it didn't hurt much less to say aloud.

"_You're_ confused?" Harry repeated, and Draco didn't think he was mistaken in hearing the underlying laughter in Harry's voice but couldn't understand it exactly. "Go finish your date with Blaise," he said, before Draco could analyze the bitterness tinged within.

"It's not a date," Draco almost pleaded for him to understand, but Harry was already smiling and that was a start.

"I'll see you around," he promised, pulling easily free of Draco's grip and slinking out of the pub to disappear in the dark streets beyond.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been watching Harry walk away until the sharp noise of Blaise clearing his throat brought him back. "It's Potter isn't it?" Blaise said the moment Draco sat back down.

"Yes, of course that was Potter," Draco purposefully misunderstood, rolling his eyes in time with the roiling of his stomach, his heart beating violently in his chest.

"You know exactly what I meant," Blaise whispered, his eyes filled with sharp pity, a wry smile on his lips. "You have terrible taste in women, but at least you make up for it in your taste for powerful men. It doesn't get much more influential than Harry fucking Potter," he sighed. "I can see now why you want out so bad. If he knew what you did for a living you wouldn't stand a chance with him."

Draco's tension at having Blaise learn his secret began to fade at the man's words. He made a fair point. Who else could be more worthy of a Malfoy's affection than such a famously powerful wizard as Harry Potter. "My thoughts exactly," he agreed, finally able to drink his wine and relax for a moment.

* * *

><p>Harry squared his shoulders and braced himself, his pulse leaping in his throat the way it did just before a duel. His hand clutched the doorknob, trembling only for a moment before he turned it and stepped into his foyer.<p>

"Ginny?" he called out. "We need to talk."

When no answer came, he moved through the house, searching the rooms one by one, but found no trace of her. Finally, he walked into the kitchen and found a note pinned to the refrigerator with a magnet displaying Ron and Hermione's wedding date. He sighed and plucked the parchment down, scanning it quickly before tossing it away.

_Harry,_

_I'm staying at Mother's this weekend. I think a break might do us some good. It seems you asked me to move in sooner than you wanted. We'll meet up Monday and talk about it. I love you, Harry. _

_Gin_

"Fuck," he muttered, his earlier confidence draining away in the face of her letter. Maybe he was being an idiot. Ginny was sweet and caring and lovely. They had plenty in common, like…. He rolled his eyes. No. She _was_ lovely, but they wanted different things and had done since the war. She wanted to forget and he couldn't help but remember. She wanted a life with Harry Potter, famous hero and Ministry poster boy. He wanted to slink into the shadows and find someone he could be himself with.

He wanted Draco.

But then, he couldn't be himself around him either. Not really. Draco thought he'd been genuinely interested in him from the start. He sighed, scrubbing his face with his open palm. "What the fuck have I gotten myself into?" he muttered, quickly realizing he needed to shave. Sniffing the air he reckoned a shower couldn't hurt either. Maybe then he could go and see Draco and Harry could tell him the whole story from the start.

* * *

><p>Hermione fidgeted under the severe scrutiny of her fiancé's gaze. She'd been trained to withstand the effects of Veritaserum without cracking, but something about Ron's hurt expression when he was being left out of things always made her cave.<p>

She took a deep sip from her teacup to stall and tried to find something interesting in the file sprawled out in front of them. Ron had been rooting through it, looking at her notes and demanded to know why this case was making her and Harry act so bizarrely. "Why did he come back here only to bolt out the window, Mi? I know you know something."

He'd already asked twice before and she'd been able to deflect the question, but he was being extra persistent this afternoon. "I can't predict Harry's moods, Ron, and neither can you."

"You followed him last night. What happened?" he demanded. When she kept her lips firmly sealed, Ron rolled his eyes. "Really, Hermione," he huffed, sounding so much like her that she scowled. "I'm not nearly as dense as you and Harry make me out to be."

"I never said you were dense," she defended automatically, but he merely held up his hand and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter what you say. You sneak around behind Harry's back and I've noticed, alright? So, what did you find out?" he repeated.

She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, wishing Harry were here. This was his secret to tell, not hers, but she couldn't keep Ron in the dark forever. "Harry kissed Malfoy."

Ron cringed slightly, but otherwise shrugged. "So? He's supposed to be courting him. Isn't that what people do when they date?"

"Yes," she reasoned, hesitating slightly before she pressed on. "But…Ron, he really kissed him. As in, not pretending, not undercover…I mean, he enjoyed it."

Ron's lip twitched slightly, from disgust or amusement at her own squirming she couldn't tell. "And that's why he came here?"

"Because he's leaving Ginny," she confirmed with a sympathetic nod.

"For Malfoy." It wasn't a question, more of a confirmation for himself, she knew, but Hermione nodded anyway. He was quiet for a long moment and she could all but see his mind actually working through everything, putting all the pieces into place. So many emotions flitted across his face that Hermione could barely keep up. Her hand on her wand she readied a harmless binding spell she could cast on her future husband until he cooled off a bit. "Our Harry knows who he is at last," Ron chuckled.

Hermione blinked at the statement, taken completely aback. She'd been expecting an angry tirade, hearing Harry's name cursed a thousand different ways, but this calm reaction was something she was completely unprepared for. "What?"

Ron gave a derisive laugh. "It kills me that you think I'm so oblivious. Did you really think the fact had escaped me that Harry was miserable with my sister? Or that he admired Professor Lupin a little too much…and he's always had an unhealthy obsession with Malfoy."

"All good points, but-" Hermione started, only to be interrupted by another of Ron's snorting laughs.

"Harry's gay. I get it. It's fine. I hadn't really put it together, I guess, but I think I always knew. Besides, he never even tried to date you, so it should have been obvious then." Ron winked and Hermione had never been so attracted to him in her life.

"I love you, Ronald Weasley. Did you know?" she asked, setting aside her tea and crawling into his lap.

"I had an inkling," he teased. "_Not dense_, remember?" he added, pointing to himself.

"So, you're not cross with Harry?" she asked tentatively, sliding her hands under his shirt.

"Cross? Why should I be? I know he'll let Ginny down easy, and as for Malfoy…I'm not worried. They can't last. They're just too different," he reasoned. "We might have to put up with him at a few dinners, but Harry will sack him before we know it."

Hermione paused, not entirely convinced, but put it out of her head as she straddled her fiancé and tried to put the whole dilemma out of her head. She'd seen the spark between the two men first hand. There was a decent chance that their fire would burn so hot that it would fizzle right out, but she thought it more likely that it would burn them alive.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: So, I would love to know who here has a Pottermore account! I haven't gotten my official letter yet, so I haven't been sorted *grumble pout* But I hope it comes soon. I'm WillowRose22 for anyone who wants to add me!<p> 


	13. Misleading

Author's Note: Much love to all who have reviewed, my dear friend Shannon for beta and all my Pottermore lovelies! If I've missed anyone, let me know! (Finally got my letter and I'm in Ravenclaw! *Shocked*)

Chapter 13 Misleading

Harry dried his hair, rubbing the towel through his unruly locks until it was only slightly damp to the touch. Instead of reaching for his wand and a quick charm, he grabbed a rarely used razor from the sink cupboard and began raking it through his foamy stubble, wincing once or twice as he nicked himself. He applied a faint layer of moisturizer and continued to stare at his reflection until he was sure he was going mad.

He knew he was delaying on purpose. He wanted to see Draco. _Needed_ to see him, but the guilt and fear he felt at the impending argument when he revealed his secret weighed heavily on his heart and seemed to make his movements slow and lethargic. Though, he knew his decision to groom himself the Muggle way, without spells or charms, helped him in his procrastination.

After he was finally dressed, sprayed with cologne and perfectly presentable, there was nothing else for Harry to do but suck up his Gryffindor courage and Apparate to Malfoy Manor.

He found the numerous windows dark, and wondered for a moment if Draco was still out with Blaise or if he was pretending to be away for Harry's sake alone. Maybe Draco was already having second thoughts, or third, or fourth thoughts and decided that Harry Potter was not the man for him after all.

But as tempting as it was to let the poorly lit path leading to an ominously shadowed door stop him, he pressed forward and knocked. He counted to ten without an answer. Then to twenty. Then thirty, and still no sign of Draco. He sighed as he realized that he'd likely wasted all of his nerve on a moment that would never happen.

Just as he was preparing to give up, Apparate home and send an Owl, the door opened and Draco appeared. Wearing only a towel, his hair still dripping tendrils of water down his chest and flanked by the dark wood of the door, Malfoy was a sight to behold. Harry felt his trousers grow uncomfortably tight and a faint flush stole across his cheeks. "Draco," he whispered, voice far more reverent than he would have liked.

A hint of pleasure glimmered in Malfoy's stormy eyes as he opened the door a bit wider, allowing Harry to pass. "It's good to see that some things are still consistent," he greeted as he escorted his guest through the parlor where they'd had their first drink together, and down a very long corridor. "Your timing is still impeccable," he teased as they headed up a flight of stairs and then took too many turns to count. By the time they reached a set of double doors at the end of one hallway, Harry had no idea how they'd gotten there or how he might find his way back when this all blew up in his face.

How embarrassing it would be to need an escort back to the front door when Malfoy tossed him out on his arse.

They stepped into a vast room of pale blues and antique white furniture, every finish and fabric more expensive than everything Harry owned put together. "Were you in the shower?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco gave him a patient look and Harry knew a sarcastic comment was likely just under the surface. He wasn't sure exactly what it meant that Draco didn't give the words voice. "I was," he answered instead.

"How could you have possibly known I was at the door if you were all the way up here…in the shower?" he asked, explaining his confusion.

"Wards," Draco answered simply, closing the door behind them. Harry swallowed thickly and tried to focus on the lovely damask bedspread rather than the half-naked Adonis staring at him, waiting. When it seemed clear that Draco would offer no other explanation, Harry cleared his throat and summoned the same determination that sent him to his death march into the forbidden Forest.

"Draco, I have something I need to tell you," he began, drawing himself up to his full height.

"I know," Draco replied, and dropped his towel. The sight made Harry's throat tighten with desire, his whole body humming with the need to touch all that glorious flesh. Before he could regain his composure and try to stop him, Draco closed the distance between them, his body perilously close. "I want you too, Harry," he whispered, eyelids heavy, a deep yearning in his hooded gaze.

"I _do_ want you," Harry murmured, admitting it aloud for the first time, his traitorous hands darting forward to caress the smooth, pale skin before him. "But that wasn't what I needed to tell you," he admitted, painfully shoving the desire to kiss the blond to the bottom of his gut.

"It's not important. I know you're with the Ginger. We can discuss the details of how you're going to leave her for me later," he pointed out with a smirk. "Because even if you weren't intending to before, you will after tonight."

The only way Harry could think to wipe that knowing smirk from Malfoy's lips was to kiss him, long, hard and deep to match his aching need for more. Their bodies melded together, Draco responding to the kiss at once with just as much unhinged passion as Harry felt. He was so distracted by the fiery way Draco kissed him that he didn't even notice the blond was moving them until the backs of his knees hit a cushiony surface and he topped backward onto the overstuffed bed.

He swallowed. _This is real. This is happening. _

"I think our first time should be a bit more traditional, don't you?" Draco mused, brow quirked as his voice exuded so many promises yet to be fulfilled. "Later we can fuck on whatever surface you like." Harry's heart pounded in his chest and all he could do was nod, which seemed to amuse the hell out of Draco. "Are you having a fit, Potter? Should I Apparate you to St. Mungo's?"

Draco's snark pulled Harry out of his gaping state and he shook his head, rolling his eyes so hard he thought he might have permanently injured them. "I'm fine. Good, in fact. Very good."

"We'll see about that," Draco replied with a soft smile, his fingers working at the hem of Harry's shirt, tugging it gently over his head. He folded it neatly, much to Harry's slight dismay, and set it on a chair near the bed.

Too distracted to pay attention to detail before, Harry's gaze now went immediately to the milky white skin of Draco's chest, marred by a jagged pink scar beneath a peppering of blond chest hair. He reached out without thinking, running his finger over the glossy flesh, letting out a reproachful sigh. "That night," he shook his head, remembering in flashes how quickly everything dissolved into Malfoy lying in a puddle of his own blood. "I wasn't thinking."

Malfoy let loose an irritated huff, shoving Harry's fingers away. "I'm not some charity case, Potter. We all have scars. Thankfully mine isn't branded on my face," he bit out, eyes flashing dangerously.

"No. You wouldn't like that at all, I'm sure," Harry replied bitterly, resisting the urge to touch the lightning bolt scar on his own forehead.

Malfoy closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Let's not do this. We have plenty of time to bicker over whom hurt whom when we were children." His fingers cupped Harry's chin and he leaned down for a tentative kiss, which Harry sunk into.

Using Malfoy's hips for leverage, he tried to tug the blond onto the bed with him, but Draco shook his finger and stepped back. Lithe fingers deftly rid him of his belt first, before slowly peeling away trousers and pants, the only thing that stood between their naked flesh. He let out a tiny hiss as his cock sprang free and was greeted with the cool air of the room and Malfoy's heated attention. A blush stole over his cheeks at the way Draco stared, a hint of pink tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Before Harry could think of any clever taunt, Draco was on him, straddling his hips and grinding their mutual desires together with such delicious friction Harry couldn't help but cry out. He didn't know how long their bodies twisted on the bed, each trying to gain some upper hand, until Harry effectively pinned Draco to the mattress, a devious smile on his face as he descended on his neck, nipping and sucking as the blond writhed beneath him. He felt so powerful, so desirable, so at home here in Draco's bed, in Draco's arms.

His mouth moved lower, a trail of wet, red marks revealing his journey until he reached the apex of Draco's thighs. Suddenly all the air was knocked from his lungs as confidence fled swifter than Hippogriff wings.

Harry just stared at it.

The hardened pink flesh in his hand, the way a bead of pre-come glistened at the tip, the fine dusting of platinum hair at the base and the way the thick vein leading down to it pulsed beneath his thumb; it all gave Harry a looming sense of trepidation. Tentatively he stuck out his tongue and jabbed at the slit, ignoring the quirked brow and confused expression on Draco's face. Not finding the taste entirely unpleasant, he dove in, only to hear a hiss from the blond when his teeth scraped skin.

"Potter! For fucks sake…you have _done _this before, I trust?" he hissed, cocking his head awkwardly to try and catch Harry's avoiding gaze. He must have seen something in those expressive eyes that made him groan as his head fell dramatically to the pillow. "Salazar help me," he muttered. "Of course you haven't. You've probably never had to sully that savior's mouth of yours on another man's cock. You likely get everyone else to do the work, don't you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed in defiance as he shoved away. He'd never sucked a cock because he'd never been with a man before…but he certainly couldn't tell Malfoy that. That thought left him in the wake of a wave of guilt. He'd come here to tell Malfoy about the mission, about his earlier deceit only to be swept up in the magnificence that was Draco's body, Draco's lips...Draco's touch.

"It's always fascinating to learn how little you know about me, Malfoy," Harry grumbled, sitting back on his haunches and staring at the man splayed before him like some decadent gift from the gods.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sat up, meeting Harry's glare. "Did I ever tell you that I think it's sexy when you get all riled up over nothing?"

"Nothing?" Harry huffed. "You just told me I was rubbish at sucking cock because I've obviously never done it before because I'm some pretentious arsehole who just lets my lovers do all the fucking work!" he ranted breathlessly, ignoring Draco's smirk.

"It sounds far harsher when _you_ say it," Malfoy noted as he hooked his hand behind Harry's neck and pulled him in close, their lips just a breath apart. "I didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities, Potter," he whispered, nibbling along Harry's bottom lip and sending shivers down Harry's spine. "But you _are_ rubbish at sucking cock," he added with a smirk.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry growled and shoved the blond away.

"_But_, I never said I wouldn't be happy to teach you. I am, after all, a master cocksucker," he preened.

"Yeah, I'll bet you are," Harry retorted with a roll of his eyes, which widened quickly as Malfoy practically pounced upon him and pinned him to the foot of the bed.

"I'll have you eating your words and that snarky tone momentarily, Potter," he whispered hotly against Harry's cock before swallowing him the base in one groaning mouthful, toying with his flesh as it hardened impossibly in Draco's mouth.

"Oh my fuck," Harry moaned as those pink lips stretched around him and began bobbing, his lithe fingers massaging Harry's sac as he sucked him deep and hard. His finger's dug into the duvet as he watched the deliciously debauched scene unfold, the sight of the usually pristine Slytherin in such a wild and passionate pose almost as erotic as the feeling of his wicked tongue curling around his prick.

Harry had never enjoyed a blowjob so much in his entire life. He didn't even know it could _be_ this fantastic. His body seemed to be melting and tensing at the same time, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure as Malfoy sucked him. He was on the brink after only a few minutes, his head lolled back and his toes curling, when Malfoy pulled off of him with a vulgar slurp and his trademark smirk, eying Harry up the line of his body.

"I'll finish after you've had a bit of practice," the blond purred, his smirk widening at Harry's indignant gasp.

"You aren't really just going to stop now?" he nearly whimpered, his prick pulsing violently in reply.

"Oh yes, I most certainly am. And you'd better impress me, Potter." The gleam in Malfoy's eyes was something akin to Fred and George when they thought up a particularly nasty new prank, but thinking about the ginger twins certainly wasn't going to help him here.

Tentatively, Harry shifted, sinking between Draco's milky thighs as he tried to psyche himself up. '_It's just a cock_,' he reasoned silently. _'_You _have one. What do _you _like?'_

Lowering his head more slowly this time, Harry focused on the tip, curling his tongue around and savoring the salty taste it left behind on his tongue. His hand gripped the base, pumping up to meet his lips as he sunk lower and lower on the hardened flesh. He moaned when it gave a jerk in his mouth.

"Yes," Draco purred, watching intently. "So much better."

Not liking that Draco was still coherent enough to form full sentences, Harry redoubled his efforts, sucking gently as his head bobbed in Malfoy's lap, moaning at the way his hips seemed to snap upward to meet his lips. He adjusted his pace based on the symphony of noises he pulled from Draco's throat, relishing in the fact that it was _his_ mouth, _his_ lips, _his _tongue that was unraveling the usually stoic blond.

Within moments Harry could feel the muscles of Draco's thighs tense and quiver and knew before the breathy word 'close' was even uttered from those perfect lips that he was about to make Draco Malfoy come. Something about that very notion made his own cock jerk in response. He was so insanely turned on that the mere brush of satin sheets against his prick brought his release, leaving him moaning wantonly around Draco's desire as hot seed coated his tongue.

Harry swallowed convulsively, afraid of gagging. The last thing he wanted after seeming so completely inexperienced was to choke and sputter now. When his throat seemed to settle at last, he pulled off Malfoy's cock, licking a stripe up the underside and nearly gasped at the awed look on the blond's face.

"You learn quickly, Potter," he said after a long starting contest. He reached down between Harry's thighs, his hand tightening around his softening shaft. "You seriously came without me even touching you?" he asked, the look of reverence now shaded with doubt.

"I was pretty turned on," Harry admitted, allowing the blush that colored his cheeks. He was too far gone at this point to care if Malfoy taunted him for it.

"Pity," the blond murmured, pulling Harry up to meet his lips in a decadent kiss. "I would have liked to taste more of you. But I suppose there will be plenty of time for that." He made the words sound disappointed, but the smile on his lips was purely carved from pleasure.

* * *

><p>Harry snored, but Draco thought he looked too adorable clinging to his hand in sleep that he decided not to wake him up to halt the obnoxious noise. He gazed down at Harry's sleeping figure - warm body mostly exposed after he'd kicked away the sheets - and consciously noted the number of men who had graced his bed over the years. There had only been two others he'd invited here, and only one of them had been permitted to stay the night. Draco hoped whatever he had with Potter wouldn't end up like that relationship had.<p>

Draco tucked a lock of Harry's wild hair behind his ear, noticing his lips twitch into a subtle smile as he shifted into the touch before settling back into the heavy breathing of sleep. He took his time memorizing the hard planes and soft angles of Harry's body, the scars, the smattering of dark curls and the faint tan lines. Feeling extra wicked, Draco pulled the sheets back to reveal the half-hard cock of his new lover. He could still hardly believe how hot it had been to feel Harry coming without a touch, from just the simple act of sucking his cock. It had been that, even more than the feeling of such wet heat surrounding Draco's prick, that had finally sent him over the edge.

He gave Harry's cock a lingering caress, watching it twitch in his hand and smirking at the apparent power he had over the appendage. He'd wager the Weasel-bitch had no such power. Still, she was sharing a home with him. Sharing a bed with him. That would have to end. Draco was never very good at sharing his things, and never before had he felt such a claim on something as he did on Harry in this moment.

He'd discuss it with Harry over tea the next morning and make the stubborn Gryffindor come over to his way of thinking. It was fairly obvious that Harry wasn't entirely happy with whatever arrangement he had with the Ginger-shrew, or else why would he seek Draco's bed? Perhaps Harry was like himself, wishing to keep his sexuality a secret, in which case he might permit his lover a ruse of some sort, but it certainly wouldn't be Ginevra Weasley. There was too much history there and though Draco wasn't a notoriously jealous lover, the idea of Harry being with anyone else made his heart clench viciously.

Staring down at him now, the peaceful look on his face as he slept, he hoped they could come to some kind of agreement. Now that he had him, Draco was loathe to give Harry up.

Author's Note: Sooo finally this authoress gives you some smut, hm? But I couldn't make it too easy.


	14. Dreams

Author's Note: Thanks to all my lovely readers and reviewers and thanks to the amazing Shannon for looking this chapter over for me. It's not long now.

Chapter 14 Dreams

Bells chimed from overhead, seeming to echo through Harry's body. At their toll, the assembled masses sank into an eerie silence, sending a shiver down his spine. Harry straightened his tie nervously and stared out into the crowd of gathered friends and family. Only it was all wrong. He caught the eye of Sirius in the front row, his head bowed toward Remus' in a teasing manner as if sharing a witty anecdote. Tonks smiled up at him from Remus' other side, their son cradled in her arms.

"But Teddy's almost old enough for Hogwarts," Harry said aloud, his face basked in confusion.

"And his parents are dead," Ron replied, patting Harry amicably on the back. He was dressed in deep burgundy dress robes, his hair pinned into a perfectly smooth ponytail. Harry looked back to the front row and gasped as the dear friends staring back at him were, indeed, quite dead. Tonks' grin was broken and putrid, her eyes sunken into her head. Remus was missing large chunks of hair and his skin seemed to hang from his bones, while beside him, Sirius seemed to almost wink in and out of existence, shimmering into sight one moment only to disappear the next.

"Stop it!" called a voice from the end of the long grey aisle. "Can't you see you're upsetting him?"

Ginny stood there in a blood red dress, a bouquet of lilies clutched tightly in front of her. Lucius Malfoy stood beside her, him arm hooked through hers. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, turning to Ron, who shrugged and then to Hermione who stared at him from across the wide platform. She looked at him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen and would only shake her head and look away. When he followed her gaze, he noticed Dumbledore standing between them, a large tome in his hands as he chuckled merrily. His eyes sparkled as he met Harry's, but as he watched they shifted from clear blue to crimson and slit like a snake's.

He tried to step away, tried to draw his wand, but he was frozen as the Headmaster's robes turned dark and billowed all around him in ominous shadow. His face melted like candlewax, leaving the greyish skin of Voldemort behind. "Who gives this woman to this man in holy matrimony?" the Dark Lord hissed.

"No, no, no. This is all wrong," Harry shouted, panicky and confused.

"Stop. Ruining. It," Ginny bit out, her face tight and cruel. She clutched Lucius' arm tighter and they began their march down the aisle toward Harry.

"I do, my Lord," Lucius replied at last, as if completely ignoring the couple's outburst. He dropped to his knee, his head bowed, but when he looked up again, it was Draco's face that stared back. Not his father's. "This is who Potter is to marry."

A sadistic smile curled Voldemort's lips as he held his hand out to Ginny and to Harry's horror, she stepped forward and accepted it. "Potter," he spat. "Do you take this woman as your wife?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes locked on Draco's. "No," he replied boldly, as loud as he could shout it.

"And you, Weasley, do you take Potter as your husband?" he continued.

"I said no!" Harry shouted again, flailing his arms when no one would even look his direction. "I want Draco!"

Ginny narrowed her eyes and gave Voldemort a meaningful look and the Dark wizard lifted his wand. "We can take care of that easily enough," he mused gently, aiming his wand at Draco's chest.

"NO!" Harry screamed, trying to leap in front of Malfoy, save him from the cruel blast, but his feet wouldn't budge and scream went unheeded.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted, and the whole hall seemed to echo the curse in unison as Draco was hit from a hundred directions. He collapsed, his mouth open in a silent scream as the light drained from his eyes while Harry watched on. His heart shattered and he pleaded with Ron or Hermione to do something, but Ron merely shrugged again.

"It's your choice, Harry," Hermione said sadly. "Your choice."

"No! I didn't choose this! I choose Draco!" he cried, but no sound escaped his lips. Ginny smiled warmly and held up a mirror. Harry stared at his reflection. He didn't look like himself. He looked like his pictures in the Daily Prophet, Ministry Poster Boy, not Harry. Only he was different still. He screamed again, but it was no use. His lips were sewn shut with crude golden thread. His fingers went to his mouth at once, trying to pry it off, but he couldn't tear it away.

And then the hall began to laugh, a thousand voices all taunting him.

* * *

><p>Harry woke in a cold sweat and a strange bed. His heart started to race and he bolted upright, blinking into the darkness of the room. His fingers immediately went to his lips and breathed a sigh of relief as he found them unmarred. A flash of blond hair beside him relieved him further and a flood of memories filled the gaps that his nightmare had left behind.<p>

Draco.

He smiled at the way the blond was sprawled out, taking up most of the bed and still partially curled around him. He was desperate to sink back into those arms, but his nightmare lingered and made him too tense to lie back down. Part of him wanted to wake Malfoy up and make him keep him company while he settled his mind, but the man looked far too peaceful to wake. Carefully he slid from the bed without stirring the slumbering ivory dragon and tiptoed across the room to his neatly folded clothes.

Flashes of his dream remained and chilled his blood. He needed to end things with Ginny once and for all. He needed to go to the Burrow and tell her that he needed her to move out and that they were over. Waking her in the middle of the night may be cruel, but he reasoned that dragging it out any longer would be equally unkind if not more so. He had to do it now, before it was too late.

He felt a little guilty setting a note on the bedside table, but he had to take care of this while his courage was fresh. There would be no more procrastinating. Harry was done with this game. He'd tell Ginny that they were through and then he'd tell Draco what he'd come here tonight to tell him in the first place and pray that the man liked him enough to forgive him his treachery.

As he slipped quietly from the room, he cursed the distraction Malfoy had provided when leading Harry up to his room the night before. He tried to call up memory of the map the Ministry had provided him with; almost wishing he'd had it tattooed on his skin. Malfoy Manor was like a terrible maze and he had no idea how to find his way back to the entrance hall. He only hoped this maze wasn't lined with traps as the Tri-Wizard Tournament maze had been…and that no one would die at the end of it.

It was difficult to shake his nightmare as he wandered the corridors, but a set of ebony doors took his mind away from it entirely. He hadn't seen these on his initial search of the manor and he thought he'd been quite thorough. This room was not on the map, he was sure of it. It had an ominous essence about it that felt like it was trying to push Harry away, make him forget.

No. This room definitely hadn't been included in his original search, and the voices in his head waged a battle over whether to go inside. Malfoy was sleeping a few doors down the hall…or a similar hallway close to this one, completely oblivious to Harry's maneuvering. He had but a split second to weigh his priorities. Stay on mission or leave as planned from his first date with Draco Malfoy.

In the end there was no real choice. Harry Potter was an Auror to the bone, and Draco was still his suspect. With a tired sigh, almost wishing he'd taken a different corridor, Harry pushed his way through the wards and into an opulent study. He had a hard time imagining Draco in this room. It was rich, like the rest of the home, but there was definitely a sinister feeling, as if the very air Harry took into his lungs was setting out to poison him. He immediately felt ill at ease, and cast a few quick charms to detect areas of saturated magic. In a place like Malfoy Manor, a place that had been the home to several generations of powerful wizarding families, every surface contained residual magical signatures, but Harry had a good eye for spotting heavy or complicated spellwork.

After studying the walls, laden with plenty of books giving off their own wafting energies, Harry swished his wand toward the desk and nearly gasped as the magic hovering in the air seemed to crackle and spit. Perhaps it was some artifact in the drawers, but a quick search revealed nothing out of the ordinary. He frowned. Something was off, but he couldn't tell what and it was frustrating him. Now more than a mission to search out Malfoy's guilt or innocence, it was a mission to conquer this desk and find out what it hid.

Chewing his lip, Harry circled the desk a few times before falling on his knees in front of it, peering below for a secret cubby of some kind. What he found surprised him and gave him pause. An oiled bronze handle nestled between two wide planks of wood from the desk above and the air seemed to shimmer around them. Harry was sure the desk base would look completely solid without the assistance of his detection charms.

He tried pulling, pushing, Parseltongue and even hexing the blasted lever, but it refused to budge. There was some key, some secret to revealing whatever this lever opened, but it was evading him with every passing minute. He had no idea what he would say if Draco were to stroll in now and catch him snooping around. He doubted that 'looking for the loo' would get him very far.

With a defeated sigh, Harry climbed back up and slumped into the massive chair. It looked soft and cushiony from across the room, but he actually found it to be rigid and quite uncomfortable. The person who sat here clearly didn't get a lot of work done, or was a serious masochist. Or both.

The desktop was mostly clean, just a couple letters bearing no consequence and a handful of framed portraits. An older couple, which Harry assumed were Draco's grandparents, an image of Lucius and Narcissa at their wedding and a very stiff family portrait featuring a much younger Draco with his parents. Harry smiled, lifting the frame and holding it closer as he watched Draco's image shift uncomfortably and his father's hand squeeze ever so slightly to still his fidgeting son. It was such a subtle nod to the obvious tension within the family, not to mention how thin and tight Narcissa's lips were pressed together as if she were holding in some deep, dark family secret, and he supposed in a way she had been.

This was the boy he knew, the spoiled, arrogant prat he'd fought with constantly and quickly became the bane of Harry's existence. To think that mere hours ago, he'd spent a passionate night with the same man was still uncanny to him, but he couldn't help the smile on his lips as he gently touched the portrait and felt a shiver of want all over again.

A loud click made him freeze in place, his eyes immediately darting toward the door. His heart was hammering in his ears, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the door was still sealed securely shut. When his nerves settled and his breathing evened out, Harry's eyes went wide with a new revelation. The noise…there was only one thing it could have been. He slipped to the floor, ignoring the sharp pain that stung his knees and found the lever had shifted. With an easy yank it released and Harry was forced to leap back quickly as the ground shifted and fell from beneath him.

Harry eyed the ominous black opening with renewed confliction. This is what he'd been seeking all along. He knew without even peeking into the dank hiding spot that this room would seal Malfoy's fate one way or the other, and he couldn't help but shake the feeling that he should just turn around and leave it alone. He knew it wouldn't be good. He knew there was no way Draco had some kind of underground flower garden or a hidden puppy emporium tucked away below the study. In his experience, no one went to such lengths to hide something unless it was very valuable or very illegal, and Gringotts was still a perfectly safe place for expensive heirlooms.

He soon found himself shifting from one foot to the other as he stared, unsure whether to bolt or sink down the dark staircase. In the end, his innate sense of curiosity and the same deep-seeded need for do-gooding that made him an Auror won out. He needed to go down there, needed to see if Malfoy was truly guilty of what he was being accused of, and more importantly, he needed to see what kind of man he'd just imagined a life with.

With trepidation that made his palms sweat and his drawn wand tremble in his hand, Harry began the long, steep journey into Draco's secret room. He'd never been so afraid on a reconnaissance mission, not even when he was moving through untouched parts of Hogwarts looking for a Basilisk, and he quickly realized why, though he was loathe to acknowledge it. He didn't want to know Draco was guilty.

It was easier than Harry would have liked to navigate the occasional traps he came across on his trek. It was almost like the house was begging to reveal its secrets to Harry now that he'd broken through the original spells to deter him. He didn't start as the torches lining the walls flamed to life and he didn't find the shadows they created particularly intimidating. This was his job. He'd done this a million times before for a million other cases.

So why were his very veins screaming at him to turn back?

But he ignored his body's influences and plowed ahead, heedless of his internal warning bells. At the very end of the hall he encountered a door. He squinted at the massive slab of mahogany and pursed his lips. It was woven with intricate spells and would take hours he didn't have to dissolve them each in turn. Especially without Hermione's help.

Perhaps that was an omen that he should turn around and give this whole thing up, but he had to know what lay behind the door. He felt like a total arse as he lifted his wand and shouted 'Alohomora', even so much as laughing at himself. As if it would be that simple.

No sooner had the self-deprecating thought left his mind, he felt the telltale shiver of the wards dropping. He hadn't even noticed the soft hum, like a thousand dragonfly wings beating in unison, until it came to an abrupt stop. He blinked and reached forward, his hand tentatively closing around the cold metal handle.

This was it. Just on the other side of this door was his answer – the ruin of a relationship that might never have been. Squaring his jaw, his teeth clenched, his countenance tense and unyielding, Harry opened the door and stepped through the threshold.

* * *

><p>A shiver ran up Draco's spine and he woke with a gasp. Clutching his chest to still his erratic heartbeat, Draco scanned the dark room for what must have woken him. He was met with a silence so deep it threatened to smother him. Only vaguely could he recapture snippets of his dream. Flying, the broom firm and familiar in his hands. Laughter, exuberant and light. Harry's. He couldn't recall anything sinister or cautionary, only a warm feeling of acceptance. So, why had he woken feeling cold and clammy?<p>

Harry was missing from the bed, and of course, part of Draco had expected as much. It was only fair after he'd run out on him earlier for Harry to return the favor. It wasn't as if they'd actually had a conversation about everything. Draco sighed and scrubbed his face, trying to clear the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes and his brain. He wondered for a moment if it were too early to give chase, pin Harry down, explain everything and let the cards fall where they may.

His heart pounded viciously at the idea of rejection, but in the back of his mind he wagered he had less to worry about than he might otherwise assume. A slow grin tugged at the edge of his mouth when he thought about Harry, about their night together and the potential for many more like it.

Peeling back the covers, Draco swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching as he stood and rummaged in his bedside locker for a pair of pajama pants. Maybe Harry was still in the manor, gone to the loo or went downstairs for a drink, but one glance at the top of the nightstand told him otherwise.

A note.

From Harry presumably. With a sigh, he grabbed it up, scanned it twice with a frown as he drank in every word of the hastily scribbled note.

_Draco,_

_Last night was…beyond words. I have some things I have to take care of, but I hope you'll wait for me. I promise it won't take long._

_Harry_

"Well, that settles that," Draco murmured to the empty room. It seemed obvious from the note that Harry still wanted him, but he asked for space, and Draco would grudgingly accommodate. No longer intending to track the wayward Gryffindor down, Draco wriggled out of his sleep pants and threw himself back into bed, pulling Harry's pillow tight to his chest. He could still smell him there, a mixture of scents he couldn't even begin to identify, but it didn't matter. It was Harry. All Harry. And Harry was his, or would be soon enough.

Draco slipped back into slumber, a pleased smile on his face, and he resumed his dream of flying side by side with Potter, their laughter echoing around their old school pitch.

Author's Note: only a few chapters left of this one, but soon I'll start posting up a yet-to-be-named fic that's just a few brief scenes away from being complete.


	15. The Beginning of the End

Author's Note: This fic is drawing to a close (Just the one more chapter & the epilogue after this) and I appreciate the patience and support to get through it. I love you guys.

Harry rocked back and forth in the tiny blue swing, his mind a jumbled mess. He couldn't count how many times he'd come to this very place as a boy to get away, to think, or just to waste a few hours. He could see the street where he'd grown up from where he sat now in the middle of a dilapidated park. Two other developments had been crammed into the nearby area since he'd left in a whirlwind, and it seemed all the new, young families wanted to live in new, young homes, leaving old Privet Drive to fall into decay.

Not that he had the slightest inkling to check, Harry was fairly sure the Dursleys had moved away shortly after the war. He'd gotten a couple impersonal Christmas cards from Dudley over the years, and he never recognized the address. Maybe his cousin had moved out on his own, but unless he'd found someone to cook his meals and do his wash, Harry wagered he was still occupying the space just beneath Petunia's skirts as always.

Kicking at the dusty ground, Harry thought over and over on what he'd seen just scant hours ago. Shelves upon shelves of illegal goods, so many it would take Hermione weeks to catalog them all, if not months. Some of them radiated evil so potent Harry didn't even want to get near, while others bore the sheen of newness and made him wonder just how recently they'd been acquired. While it was obvious the collection couldn't have been accumulated solely in Draco's lifetime, it was also fairly clear that it had been contributed to since Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to Azkaban.

He could feel his heart breaking all over again looking over the plethora of illegal objects. It seemed monumentally clear to Harry that Draco was, in fact, carrying on his father's business. He couldn't prove that Malfoy was selling the goods, but the possession of them alone was enough to have him brought up on charges. Lucius had procured a lifetime sentence with mostly speculation and testimonies of his dastardly deeds, so Harry shuddered to think of what might happen to Draco with so much physical evidence against him.

It was his duty to turn this information over to the Ministry. This is what he was paid for, what his moral compass always pointed to, what his friends and family had grown to depend on him for. It was the exact thing this mission had been based upon all along. Fledgecraft had been right from the start and Harry had successfully completed his task without the man's assistance. People like Malfoy deserved to be punished, didn't they?

But he couldn't stand to see Draco thrown into prison…or worse…administered the Kiss.

Not for the first time that night, Harry tugged at his unruly locks, wishing things were simply black and white. Good and evil. But everything was as grey as Malfoy's arrogantly beautiful eyes and he didn't know what to do. He was afraid to tell Hermione, for fear her sense of justice would prevail and she'd go to the Minister herself. He certainly couldn't tell Ron, whose grudge against the Malfoy family had spanned generations.

No. This weight was on his shoulders alone, as so many others had been throughout Harry's brief life.

In the end the answer was clear. Harry was an Auror. He'd taken an oath to protect and serve, and as the sun slowly bathed the gloomy little park in fresh golden light, Harry knew what he had to do.

* * *

><p>Ginny looked radiant, as usual. She was wearing a yellow sundress that made her hair seem redder somehow and her lovely freckles stood out against her skin. She was sipping a bright pink frozen drink and her eyes met Harry's immediately as he walked into the little outdoor café.<p>

"Harry," she called, standing to meet him and pulling him into a hug. "You look….tired," she commented, touching the dark circles beneath his eyes. "Have you missed me so much you couldn't sleep?" she teased, but Harry shook his head sheepishly and took a seat across from hers.

He'd practiced this in his head a hundred times, but seeing her there now, his words seemed to stick in his throat. "We have to talk," he said at last, though, that was quite the understatement.

Her shoulders tensed ever so slightly, but her expression didn't falter. "I think you're right," she replied lightly, taking another sip of her drink before giving Harry the full weight of her gaze. "I think we should get married, Harry," she stated, as if mentioning she'd just had a lovely manicure.

"You think we should…what?" he sputtered, feeling his hands go clammy. This was not how he'd envisioned this conversation. He'd naively expected Ginny to be okay, maybe a bit cross, but could he honestly break up with her when she'd just proposed to him? Sort of.

Yes. He could. It was his obligation not to let this spiral any more out of control than it already had.

"Ginny, that's not at all what I meant," he pressed, eyes filled with warmth and regret.

"I know," she bit out, looking scorned. "You came to break things off with me, but I think you'll change your mind when you hear me out."

Harry could only blink. "Pardon?" His head was spinning, he had no idea what she was talking about, what she meant. All he could do is gape at her like a fish out of water.

"You care about me, don't you, Harry?" she asked, her voice sugary and sultry at the same time.

"Of course, but that has nothing-" he began, only to be cut off by a shake of her head.

"And you know me. You knew me before you took down Voldemort, before everyone was out for a piece of you," she pointed out. "I've never lied to you, Harry. I've never been unfaithful."

Harry's cheeks heated at those words, as they cut deep into his soul. "Ginny," he breathed, his heart wrenching in his chest. This was all very nice, but he couldn't listen to it anymore. He couldn't lie to her, to himself. He wanted something she just couldn't give him and it wasn't her fault, just the truth.

"I like our life together," she continued without much pause. "And I could make you like it more as well, if you'll just marry me, Harry. We could be content together. I could give you the loving family you've always wanted. Children, grandchildren. You'd never have to worry about a thing. I could keep our house and you could fight your fights and you could come back to me and we could be happy."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. "Gin, I want more than contentment," he said at last. "I didn't even know if there was more to life than what we shared, but there is. There is so much more and I want a chance at that. And you deserve that too. You deserve to find a man who will take you to balls and appreciate your gowns and pamper you and give you all the things you desire."

"I want you to be the man to give me those things," she bristled, keeping her voice low. "What have you been doing since I've been gone? Did you…find someone else?" she demanded coldly.

"No," Harry blurted. "And yes. Maybe. I just…I can't possibly explore it until you and I…Ginny, I need you to understand. We can be friends, but anything more is impossible for me. You and I as a couple will just never work."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes but she shook her head. "Whoever she is, she's no good for you, Harry. I know you. We know _each other_. She couldn't understand what you've done, what you've been through, not like I can."

Harry winced and shook his head. "That would probably be true of just about anyone else. But not him."

"But not….him?" she whispered, mouth forming a tight, angry line, her posture frozen. "Malfoy. You can't be serious. You've fallen for _Malfoy_?"

Her voice was cold and dangerous and sliced through Harry like a knife. "It's not what you think. This mission…we've gotten close. I find myself more attracted to him than I've ever felt toward anyone."

"It's a spell," she scoffed. "A potion. Some game of his. It has to be!"

"Trust me," Harry snorted to himself. "I've thought of that. It's not. I genuinely want him. And it would be cruel of me to hold onto you when I want to pursue Draco. I'm not even certain that I will…in fact, given recent events, I doubt things could possibly work out, but either way, this thing between you and I is over. It has been for longer than I've been willing to admit."

Ginny went silent, her mind obviously working through everything, her drink sitting neglected on the table. "What if I let you have your little boy on the side," she said, her voice cracking and her words taking Harry completely by surprise. "Plenty of pureblood couples have such arrangements. You can get your rocks off with Malfoy, if you must, and then come back to me."

Harry looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a couple extra heads. "Ginny, that's insane. I will not live like that and neither should you. Why would you submit yourself to being someone's second choice?"

"I've been in love with you since I was ten years old, Harry!" she snapped, fear, grief and hate all mingled in her sharp gaze.

With a deep, trembling sigh, Harry shook his head. "You weren't in love with me, Gin. You were a girl with a crush on the boy you'd seen in papers. You were my biggest fan…."

"Everything I ever did was to get you to notice me - dating those other Gryffindor boys, fighting with Dean, joining the Quidditch team, everything. Do you think I enjoyed watching you moon over Cho fucking Chang? I joined the DA to be close to you, and all you did was watch _her_. Then finally, _finally_ I get you to notice me, and you run off with Ron and Hermione looking for Horcruxes. You know, Ron owled me when he left the two of you, and I had to spend weeks wondering if you were fucking Hermione!"

Harry gaped at her stream of admissions, his heart sinking as he realized more than ever, he had no idea who this beautiful girl was in front of him. "I wasn't. For the record," he said, shaking his head. "But I did sleep with Draco last night, and I shouldn't have. I should have done this first, but I'm an arse and I'm sorry."

Her bottom lip trembled and she stood, giving him a haughty sniff. "You're a coward, Harry Potter. I don't know why I ever loved you," she said before storming off, leaving him with a hollow heart, the dredges of her fruity drink and the tab.

* * *

><p>Draco paced his expansive parlor, wondering how long he was expected to wait until he went after Harry. He wanted more of him. More of his witty banter, more of his distinct flavor, more of his companionship. Just <em>more<em>. He'd gotten an owl from Blaise that morning and read it over tea. Everything was going accordingly to plan. Ownership of the illegal goods in his basement was set to be transferred elsewhere by the end of the week, upon which he was assured they would be destroyed. Part of him mourned the loss of such magical heirlooms, illegal or not, they carried stories and history with them, but he knew Harry would go ballistic if he knew they were out there somewhere in less capable hands.

And he'd have to tell Harry everything. Once the items were all safely relocated, of course. He'd already been concocting a plan that would get them both out of town for a bit while Blaise made the switch. Besides, what could be hotter than sex on the Riviera? A slow smile crept over his features and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited about anyone.

When he felt the ward shiver, his excitement only grew. Not to appear too eager, Draco took his time answering the door, but was met with a guest he hadn't been expecting. "You're not Harry," he chimed, a sadistic smile creeping up.

"No. I'm not," Ginevra Weasley bit out, her body clad in a sweet canary yellow dress that made him positively sick to his stomach.

"Pardon any offence," he began formally, "but what the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

He watched her bristle. "I have something you might want to know. About Harry."

Draco laughed, a low, genuinely amused sound. "Oh, I'll bet you do. Let's hear it then."

"You might want to sit down for this one, Malfoy," she sneered, just as good as any Slytherin he'd seen. "May I?" The Weasel bitch gestured toward the door and the parlor beyond, and although he detested the idea, he couldn't think of a single reason not to entertain whatever ludicrous accusations she came up with. At the very least it should provide comical fodder for his next party.

Shutting the door behind her, Draco strode into the parlor and made himself a mimosa, inclining his head to see if the Weasel queen would join him in a drink. She nodded demurely and Draco did everything in his power to keep from poisoning her beverage. "I know that Harry's seeing you," he said bluntly, the moment he handed her a glass and took a seat. "If that's what you came here to tell me you're wasting your breath."

Draco had to give her credit; Ginevra's features were almost perfectly schooled. He only saw a brief hint of annoyance flash across her eyes before she pursed her lips and smiled at him cruelly. "Is that something you do often, Malfoy? Prey upon straight, attached men?"

Something akin to a snort escaped Draco's lips before he shook his head. "Oh, sweetheart if you think Harry's straight, I'm not sure you've ever even seen an angle. He was certainly bending all kinds of ways for me last night." He gave her a smug grin, knowing his words would irritate her about as much as her presence irritated him.

She bristled under his gaze, his words obviously striking a chord with her. "I came to tell you," she began, as if spitting the words through gritted teeth, "that Harry's been lying to you."

"About?" Amusement colored Draco's features, his smug grin still firmly in place. He doubted there was anything this gold-digging witch could tell him that he hadn't already learned on his own. He and Harry weren't serious enough yet for him to start demanding complete truths from him, but he hoped to fix that next he saw him.

"You know Harry's an Auror, right?" she asked, looking far too superior in Draco's opinion.

"Of course I know he's an Auror," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Really Ginevra, if that's all you have…."

He glared at her as she cut him off. "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps his attentions were a ruse? Part of an investigation?"

"You honestly expect me to believe that the Ministry condones its Aurors fucking suspected criminals? That's preposterous," he pointed out, but a sinking feeling filled the pit of his stomach at her accusation.

She merely smiled that sadistically sweet smile so many women had and extracted a thick file from her miniscule bag, setting it gently on the ottoman in front of him. "Harry didn't go after you because he wanted you. He went after you because the Ministry was paying him to catch you doing something illegal in whatever way he had to. Even if that meant sleeping with the enemy." Her face seemed to split in two, she was smiling so wide. "It was all a lie."

Draco just blinked down at the heavy file in front of him as she stood and stalked out of the manor, leaving her devastation behind.

Author's Note: That bitch!


	16. The Choice

Author's Note: And the long wait is nearly at an end. Thanks for every review, warm and fuzzy cupcakes for all

Hermione arrived early to the office, a sleepy and disgruntled Ron in tow. "I don't understand why we couldn't have stopped off for even a muffin. Or a bit of egg and sausage," he complained, and Hermione ignored the trail of drool seeping from the corner of his lips.

"I've already told you. We haven't seen Harry all weekend. We need to check on him and make sure he's okay," she explained. Again.

"Then can we get some breakfast? I'm half starved," he whined behind her as they slipped into the dim row of offices. Only a few lights were on in the cubbies and Harry's was one of them.

"He's here," she whispered, obvious relief in her voice.

"It's not all that surprising," Ron muttered. "He's always here."

Hermione pressed forward, rounding into Harry's office with an expectant look. "All right, Harry?"

Her friend looked up, spectacles resting crookedly on his nose. Harry never wore his glasses anymore, a sure sign that something was amiss. "Fine. Busy," he muttered, turning back to his paperwork, scribbling furiously.

"What are you doing there, Harry?" she asked softly, stepping further into his office. He seemed like a skittish cat that could be spooked off by the slightest movement or raised voice.

"Filling out a search warrant," he replied curtly, and Hermione bristled.

"A search warrant for what?" she asked, still calm but growing more worried by the minute.

"For Malfoy."

Hermione's heart dropped to her toes. "You found something, then?" She felt a wave of pity for her friend, who was obviously enamored with the man he now had to shackle and bring into the Ministry.

"No," Harry huffed quickly. "But there is only one place I haven't been able to look, and once I check there, we can close this case for good," he explained rather curtly, his attention still focused on the spread of papers in front of him. "And then I'm _done_."

"What?" Ron piped in, stepping in behind Hermione. "But, Harry…I thought…."

Harry turned in his chair, meeting Ron's gaze. The dark shadows beneath his eyes made them look somehow brighter, even through his glasses. "You thought what?" he asked challengingly.

"I thought that you…liked Malfoy," Ron replied sheepishly.

"I did," he bit out, sighing as he raked a hand through his hair. It was already standing on end and Hermione wondered how many times he'd done that already this morning, or if he'd been here all night. It seemed likely by his restless and cranky demeanor. "I do…I mean…how the hell did you know that anyhow?" he demanded, but his eyes took in Hermione's guilty look and he shook his head. "Of course. It doesn't matter. I'm eager to put this part of my life behind me. Once we get leave to check Malfoy's storefront, we'll be done. _I'll_ be done."

"But…does that mean…." Hermione's loss for words was uncommon. She felt terrible for her friend. Obviously something had happened, but she knew from experience she couldn't make Harry talk if he didn't want to talk.

"I don't know what it means, and I really don't have time to think about it. I want this done. Today. Now. I'm ready to move on," he sighed, an almost defeated tint to his eyes.

"Harry-"

"Can I please have some quiet, Hermione?" he bit out tersely. "I really need to get this done."

Ron tugged on Hermione's sleeve and touched his fingertips to her gaping chin. She couldn't remember the last time Harry spoke to them that way. "Yeah. Alright. We'll be around. If you need us," she murmured before slipping from Harry's office and letting Ron tug her toward the lifts.

Harry turned back to his work, scribbling furiously on the parchments in front of him, itemizing every thought and trying to distance himself from the fact that he was about to break the law for someone who was obviously practicing in illegal activities. Because he was in love with him. He gave a resigned sigh as his signature went onto the last document. He might not be able to see a life with Draco any longer, but that didn't mean he could sit back and watch the man hauled away to rot out the rest of his days in prison.

The last twenty-four hours had been the single most emotionally draining Harry could recall. Flip flopping between his break up with Ginny, his newly found desire for Malfoy and then witnessing what Harry felt was the ultimate betrayal had left him sapped of all energy and apparently his manners as well. He knew he'd have a massive apology on his hands when he saw Hermione next, but he was too far wasted to care at the moment.

He alternated between feeling pity towards Draco and a fury so deep it made his hands tremble. How could he do it? Some of those items were so evil that Voldemort himself might have cringed in their presence. He just wanted to shake the ignorance right out of Draco and tell him off, but at the same time he didn't know if he could even see him again.

And then there was his own betrayal, something that would have forced them apart, Harry was certain. They were destined to their own paths, but at least this way he could do something to help Draco before they parted ways.

Rolling the papers into a tight scroll, Harry marched down the hall to Fledgecraft's new cubicle. The man wasn't in yet, but Harry knew he'd tear into the search request the moment he sat down. Maybe with Fledgecraft having to admit they'd found nothing, it might lend a bit of credibility to Harry's own signature, although he suspected it was an unnecessary precaution. Kingsley signed off on whatever Harry asked him to, but he didn't want his old friend getting into trouble if questions were asked.

He debated taking a personal day, but he wanted to be present for the raid, and honestly, all he'd do at home would be sulk around and think about Draco. At least work gave him something to keep him busy and distracted. But no sooner had the thought entered his mind than a surly looking blond stormed into the Auror offices, his gaze immediately seeking, finding and boring straight through to their target.

Draco.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Harry pressed, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed the blond stalking purposefully toward him. There were still only one or two people in the entire department, and they didn't seem interested in Harry or his guest.

The blond sneered as Harry somewhat directed him into his office so they'd be granted at least a bit of privacy. "Back to Malfoy, is it? I should have known it would be all business with you, Potter. It always has been, hasn't it?" he demanded, slamming a thick manila envelope on Harry's desk.

He winced, immediately recognizing the broken Ministry seal, his own handwriting on the front and 'Malfoy, Draco Abraxas' typed in big block letters along the edge. "Where did you get this?" Harry demanded, his voice a bit breathy and choked. Despite the fact that he'd been lied to this entire time, Harry knew he'd been doing his fair share of storytelling as well and the idea shamed him more than he wanted to admit.

"Is it true?" Draco hissed, ignoring Harry's question outright. "You've just been using this…." He paused, seemingly unable to come up with a word to describe them and merely gestured wildly back and forth between their bodies. "…to get dirt on me? To have me arrested?"

"No. And yes. But, no," Harry insisted, fumbling. "I was tasked with the mission, more...forced into it really."

"How lovely," Draco growled mockingly, but the hurt was plain on his face.

"That's not what I meant," Harry sighed, already exhausted and the fight had merely begun. "You and I both know how unlikely it would have been for me to approach you of my own volition, especially like that…I wasn't even…I didn't know…." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose before running a hand through his hair and decided to just come out with it. All of it. "I thought I was straight, Draco. I thought I was going to marry Ginny, move to the seaside, have children, grow old and die. The idea that all I secretly wanted was for Draco Malfoy to fuck me hadn't even entered my mind."

Draco opened his mouth as if to scream some obscenity at Harry, but promptly closed it at his admission. He stared, seemingly baffled for a moment, but quickly shook himself out of it. "That doesn't change the fact that you lied to me," he said at last, a little weakly.

"No. It doesn't," Harry replied, looking contrite. "But I'm sorry in any case." Even now, with Draco's arrogant eyes shining down at him, Harry couldn't seem to make himself bring up the room and all the illegal things he'd found within. It would be so easy to turn the tables, rub it in his face, and maybe the old Harry might have done just that, but the old Harry was a miserable sod and Harry found he liked that man less and less each day.

"I don't want your apologies, Potter," Draco spat, slamming a second folder on top of the first, but this one was unfamiliar to Harry. "It's my confession," he explained at Harry's look of confusion. "I've listed every dark artifact to ever enter and leave my care. Go ahead and shackle me, Potter. I know it's what you want."

Shaking his head tiredly, Harry incinerated the documents with a flick of his wrist, his eyes never leaving Draco's stormy gaze. "If I'd wanted that, Draco, you'd already be on your way to Azkaban. I know about the room. I found it last night," he admitted to try and deter Draco from pursuing this path.

A flash of guilt passed over Draco's cold, gray eyes, but he shrugged his elegant shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Harry quirked a brow in annoyance. "No? You mean you've never seen the room beneath your father's study, the one down the dank tunnel that smells like old socks? The one whose walls are made up entirely of illegal artifacts?" Shaking his head, Harry merely slumped into his office chair and sighed. "Please don't take me for an idiot, Malfoy. I might not be a good person, but I'm a damned good Auror."

The corner of Draco's lip twitched. "Then why didn't you bring me in?"

"Because, it's not about the case for me anymore. I've already signed the papers that will have your file put into archives for the better part of our lifetimes. I care about you too much to see you thrown into a cell because you were a devoted son. No matter how ignorant and dangerous that devotion is," Harry said, feeling weighed down by it all over again.

His mind reeled as he said words aloud he'd almost been too afraid to think. Part of him knew that charging Draco would be the right thing to do. That all of his past experiences, all of his training – by both the Ministry and Dumbledore – had indicated Azkaban as the only rightful place for a man like Malfoy.

It wasn't until he sat down and tried to put a signature to such a document that his carefully constructed walls had come crumbling down. His hand shook with grief at the very idea of sending Draco away. If it were Hermione or Ron, would he be able to do it? No. He'd do his best to shove it under the rug if either of them were the guilty party, just as he was doing now for Draco.

Draco continued to stand, staring down on him like some dark avenging angel, but his expression was clearly torn. "I'm not sure what to say," he replied at last.

Harry offered him a weak smile and took of his glasses to scrub his hand across his face. His vision of the blond immediately blurred, but he no longer felt the tight constrictions of the glasses adding to his headache. He lifted his wand and muttered the spell Hermione taught him to fix his vision and waited for the room to come into focus. "We should just call it a comedy of errors and part ways as amicably as still possible," he said at last, not noticing how stricken Draco looked at the suggestion. By the time Draco's features sharpened before him, his face had returned to its hard mask. "And perhaps try not to do anything too illegal until I can get Fledgecraft off your scent, yeah?"

"That's what you want?" Draco asked, his voice smooth and soft. "To end things before they ever have a chance to begin?"

Harry blinked at the question, realizing he didn't want to let any of this go. Not yet. "Don't you? I mean…this whole thing has been a lie. How could you even stand to look at me knowing I manipulated you into…whatever it is you feel about me?" he asked, wondering not for the first time, how deeply his own fondness of the blond had latched on.

Frowning, Draco slumped –somehow still elegant- into the chair opposite Harry's desk. "I'd thought that you never cared at all. That it was a game to you."

Harry gritted his teeth and shook his head. "It was never a game, Draco. My feelings in the beginning might not have been completely genuine, but I hated with a passion what I was being instructed to do. I should have put my foot down from the beginning and told Fledgecraft off, but…I was too much of a coward," he admitted.

Draco swallowed and nodded. "I know a bit about how that feels," he whispered. "I've spent the better part of my life taking orders I never wanted to fulfill, hoping that one day it would be my turn to call the shots, but it took me until being with you to know that if I ever wanted that, I had to take it. I couldn't just wait around for someone to ask my opinion, ask me what _I_ wanted to do."

A slow, understanding grin spread across Harry's lips and he nodded. "So, what is it _you_ want, Draco?" Harry asked, somewhat tentatively.

"The same thing I wanted last night, earlier this week, last week and the week before that…maybe longer," Draco said, as if that explained anything. "You."

Harry felt a shiver course through him at the words and knew he was probably blushing, and Draco's soft smirk a moment later confirmed that thought. "We'd have to keep it quiet. For now, at least. Until this whole Ministry business blows over. If Fledgecraft saw fit to prove I'd tampered with evidence, he'd have both our arses in a sling."

Draco quirked a brow, but nodded. "That's fair. We should probably start fresh anyhow, what with how everything played out the first time."

Harry found himself liking the idea of that. "And the artifacts-" he began, but Draco beat him to the punch.

"Arrangements have already been made to have them vacated from my premises. Everything will be destroyed once it's away from Malfoy Manor. Unless, of course, my Auror boyfriend would like to oversee the process?"

"I should," Harry mumbled, but he was too pleased at being called Draco's Auror boyfriend to put up much of a fight. "But I think you can handle it."

Draco bowed his head knowingly. "I assure you, it'll be taken care of."

"I trust you," Harry whispered, and found the words to be true. He'd been trusting Draco for a long time, and if he got his way, a long time still.

Author's Note: Only the epilogue left now. Then I'll start posting chapters of Glorious, my new extra long oneshot.


	17. Epilogue

Author's Note: And the end is here at last. Hope you enjoy the ride.

Epilogue

"Say it again," Draco demanded, his fingers forming fists in Harry's Armani robes, wrinkling the lapels beyond recognition.

He watched as Harry's Adam 's apple rose and fell enticingly as he swallowed, a nervous gesture of which he had plenty. Draco had memorized them all over the past several weeks. The way he would fidget when he had some bad news about Draco's file, the way his teeth would chew gently at the inside of his lip when Draco proposed something he found intriguing but didn't want to admit to it right away. Draco learned that Harry was reluctantly eager, up for just about anything Draco suggested after analyzing it nearly to death. Harry also had a spontaneous side to him, arranging moonlit dinners and special rendezvous', each day bringing a new surprise that Draco never tired of. Draco had never had such an attentive and romantic lover before.

"You're my first," Harry breathed, and it didn't look like the tenth time had been any easier to say than the first.

Draco shivered. He'd spent so much of their first courtship assuming Harry had been with plenty of blokes, but to his pleasant surprise, that was not the case. Draco had been the first man Harry had ever so much as kissed, which made every new touch that much more special to him. "Every time you say that, I am instantly hard for you," he purred, making Harry light up like a Christmas tree.

"I'll have to say it more often then. And in public. Make sure to pick really awkward social situations," he teased, but Draco only scooped his arm around Harry's waist and backed him over to the bed.

"If you do that, I'll merely have to find an equally awkward situation to make you take care of the problem you created," Draco smirked, sliding his hand down the front of Harry's trousers and squeezing.

Harry groaned, his whole body trembling at Draco's touch. When his eyes refocused and leveled on him, Draco could see the full intensity in those brilliant emerald orbs. "I'm ready," he rasped, and something feral inside of Draco snapped at the admission.

Before now, they'd done plenty of fooling around and it had never grown boring or chaste, but Harry hadn't been ready to take all of Draco, and he certainly didn't press the issue. They'd agreed to take it slow, not knowing for certain until last week that the file would be buried and Harry's plan had worked. Draco could instantly see the shift in Harry's confidence and his demeanor at the news, and since that day, they'd been more and more open with the public and each other. It was as if Harry had given leave to the guard that protected his heart.

"I want you inside of me," Harry groaned, clearly not happy with how long it was taking Draco to respond. Draco nearly growled, ripping at Harry's clothes so roughly he swore he heard fabric tearing.

Their lips crashed together the moment Harry's shirt was free and when Draco eventually strayed from Harry's mouth it was only to cover his lips over the pulse point of Harry's throat, sucking him, marking him. "Gods, you taste amazing," Draco moaned, as he tore his own shirt off and tossed over to join Harry's.

His mouth trailed downward, sucking and kissing a path along Harry's chest, lavishing each nipple in turn before directing his attention lower. Harry's rock hard desire twitched under his gaze and Draco was aching to swallow him up, instead his mouth slid lower, his tongue tracing a delicate path along Harry's crack. The man shivered beneath his attentions and shifted, grinding himself shamelessly against Draco's face. He seemed to know just how much his confidence turned Draco on, and was rewarded when Draco speared his tongue into his center, tasting the most intimate part of him.

"Fucking hell," Harry cried out, cock bobbing as Draco lifted his legs up further, practically bending him in half. "Draco!"

Hearing his name called out that way, such a primal cry, made Draco impossibly harder. He pulled away only long enough to cast a slicking spell on his fingers, sliding first one and then a second to join it inside of Harry's tight heat, moaning at the sensation. "Oh god, you're going to be so tight," he moaned as Harry took his fingers eagerly and still begged for more.

Draco had little choice but to oblige, who was he to refuse the Chosen One, after all?

He gingerly pumped his fingers inside of his lover, milking a symphony of delicious noises from those full pouting lips. "Are you ready, Harry?" he rasped, so close already and he hadn't even entered Harry yet.

"Draco," Harry moaned, his voice on edge and close to breaking. "Please…."

The plea swayed him over the edge and he extracted his fingers with care, only to line his slick cock up in place, slowly pushing his way into Harry's tight heat. "Harry," he panted, only halfway buried. "All right?" He was so much tighter than Draco had imagined, and he knew he wasn't going to last long.

Harry nodded, though the discomfort on his face was evident. "Great," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Just relax, Love," Draco soothed. "And if you want me to stop, just say the word."

When Harry's breath left him in a rush, Draco took the opportunity to push the rest of the way inside of his tight lover, groaning as every inch of him was surrounded by delicious and unmatched heat. He remained that way for several heartbeats, letting Harry grow accustomed to being filled, being owned, but when Harry gave a curt nod and shifted, taking him even deeper, Draco knew that the ownership went both ways.

Harry took charge of the pace, canting his hips and opening himself up wider for each thrust. Draco couldn't recall a time he felt so lost in bliss, the feel of it practically curling around him like an heirloom afghan. His every breath was but a reverent sigh of his lover's name, echoing through the room around them in time with the melody of Harry's moans.

All it took was a brief touch of Draco's hand along Harry's engorged flesh and he was undone, stream after stream of pearly fluid glinting over his stomach as his walls tightened and clenched Draco's prick, sending him to follow with a shout. Draco thrust through his orgasm, watching with rapt attention as Harry's prick continued to twitch, his body filled with soft shuddering movements, his eyes closed and lips parted. "Harry," he whispered gently, slowing and collapsing on top of him, "you are magnificent."

Harry shot him an almost smug grin and pulled him closer, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss. "Only the best for you, right?" he purred, and Draco could only smile at him for a long time while they both fought to catch their breath.

"Shit!" Harry leapt up with a start, eyes wide and glancing around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Nap time?" Draco suggested through a sleepy smile.

"The wedding! We're going to be late!" Harry grabbed Draco's hand and jerked him to his feet, motioning for him to get dressed. "We were supposed to be leaving before…well, before you distracted me with your sexiness," he teased.

"Fine, fine," Draco grumbled as he slid back into his trousers and cast a few mending charms on Harry's clothes, noticing with a smirk that there was a slight awkwardness to Harry's gait. "You're really going to feel that tomorrow," he pointed out, not as regretfully as he maybe should have.

Harry's eyes flashed with mirth as he nodded. "I look forward to it."

* * *

><p>Harry sat and watched as his best friends recited their wedding vows in front of a large group of illustrious witches and wizards, most of which they probably didn't even know, with a swell of happiness. He had caught Ginny's eye once or twice throughout the ceremony and each time he was met with a civil smile and she clung just a little bit harder to her date for the night, an Ambassador of something-or-other. Ron's parents were thankfully still speaking to him, Molly just as gushy as ever despite the breakup.<p>

Draco's hand rested possessively on his thigh, a quiet show of coupledom that went nicely with the pleasant ache deep inside of him from their lovemaking. He'd had to do a quick patch up of his suit thanks to Malfoy's exuberance, but it had definitely been worth the fuss. He could still picture Draco's face as he filled him, claimed him and Harry had never been so ecstatic to belong.

"My parents bonded that way at their wedding. It's very uncommon," Draco whispered against the shell of Harry's ear, making him shiver. He looked up to see what his boyfriend meant, seeing a bright white light spun around the couples joined hands. "It cannot be broken as easily as signed documents. It's a life bond," he explained at Harry's questioning look. "They've pledged their very magic, essentially their souls, to one another."

"That's…." Harry was a bit astounded by the idea, his heart beating a little faster. He had no idea his friends had settled on such a ceremony, much less what all it meant.

"Romantic?" Draco offered, a soft smile on his lips. "If I were ever to marry, that's what I'd want. A true marriage."

Harry thought his heart might hammer clear out of his chest. "Do you ever think you might? Get married, that is?"

Draco smirked and ignored the question. "Could you see yourself up there, Harry? Surrounded by all those people, your hand in another, knowing you'll be joined for eternity?"

"No," Harry admitted, watching as Draco's smirk melted and his face took on the look of a kicked crup. "I mean, the people. I'd just want close friends and family. Nothing this elaborate. But…yes. I could see myself bonding with the right person," he finished.

"A small wedding," Draco murmured, as if rolling the idea around on his tongue. "My mother would roll in her grave if she knew I was even contemplating it," he teased, thick mirth in his tone.

Harry swallowed. "Are you contemplating it?"

Draco's eyes met his then, and the world faded away to just the two of them, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Yes, Harry. I am."

The End

Author's Note: I love you guys so much. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Should I start posting up Glorious now?


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